in which people are gross

I’d hoped to write about mental health today: a thoughtful entry I’ve been growing in my head for a few days, about applying genuinely obsessive- compulsive tendencies towards positive ends. Instead, I cannot draw my mind from focusing on the disgusting noises in my hut, predicting those disgusting noises, and the absolute revulsion it creates in me. I remember why until I met Sam I used to dream about living alone: people are really, really nasty.

I swear, if the woman living diagonal from my room doesn’t stop doing that repugnant, drawn- out sniffle- snort/ phlegm- grunt every five to ten seconds (no joke, and really WTF) I swear I will break her damned nose. She’s been doing it for over ten minutes now and I want to scream.

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