On an unrelated note, I want to announce that today was a bad day.
It may seem right (at the time) to crawl under the table in the fetal position and weep in all your self-pitying oceans of emotional torment, but, my friends, at the end of the day, long after the tears have dried, you think about it, look in the mirror a bit at your puffy dry and very unattractive-looking eyes and think,
'Haha, eyerrr, damn emo la you. Wtf, act like that once more, I smack you!'
Oh the shame. I wish I could laugh it off and pretend it didn't happen or that it was the first time, however, in my defence, it's quite hard to think rationally and composedly when your own mind's voice is drowned out by a body all flushed and confused with hormones (and it's not your fault).
Haih. The enigma of PMS.
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