... grim realisations 3.0 ...

It's pathetic enough when the only people who ever asks you out in your entire sordid existence called life are the few strangers who happen to see you on the streets / buses / bus stops / some-random-public-area-where-they've-got-nothing-better-to-do-to-pass-the-time-and-obviously-any-random-bystander-of-the-female-persuasion-will-do. But it certainly doesn't help that they all seem to come from the same type of mold, THAT kind of people... Times like this, can't blame one for being prejudicial.


Yet another sign indeed.



*note to self - avoid that supermarket*

Not that I actually have any self-delusions that I would be remembered. Nor do I care. It's just that I need to forget. Desperately.





Wouldn't it be nicer if I was born a guy?