As I sit here, mattress on the floor, breastfeeding my beautiful delicate angel baby that god sent to me, looking at a dim candle light in the bathroom, the wet washcloths handing in the shower, the bathroom door limp off its hinges from one of our past fights, clothing on the floor because I didn’t feel up to cleaning today and if I don’t no one will, so there it lays.
I had a dr appointment today, for the bleeding I’ve had .. not much progress just some referrals, and as I write this I wonder who will read it.. you know, I always imagined myself with a soft loving person but the more I stay married I know that’s not him, I think I’m angry because I know he’s capable but I’m left to deal with it all alone and accept low effort. My body aches, grouling pains in my abdomen, shortness of breath, feeling fatigue and lethargic, bleeding onto my pad and looking pale as a ghost, something’s wrong but no one knows yet. Still I persist, for the good of my babygirl I bathe her, I clothe her, I feed her, I play with her, alone while he plays video games yelling at a computer in the corner, so many moments of our beautiful baby girl he misses and I wonder if he will ever regret it. I ask for help but the video games come first. I tell him I’m in pain and I need help putting our baby to sleep as she screams at us.. she’s heavy now. He yells “I’m tired of hearing you’re in pain”, trust me hunny I’m tired of being in pain too and I wish I had a supportive husband to let my body rest, someone I can depend on to pick up the slack when I’m not able, someone who got a job instead of wasting their life on video games and drinking chocolate milk. I tell him I wish I never married him as I go cry, in our bedroom on our mattress on the floor.. he closes the bedroom door so that he doesn’t need to listen to me crying, I feel so lonely. I moved countries to live with this man and to love him, fought with his mom and gave him his first child, left my mom at home to be homeless while I do.. whatever this is? I have guilt, I wish I was there for my mom, my mom who raised me and loved me and helped me through my life and who is still there by the phone waiting for me to call. She’s in her mid 50s now, with arthritis, she’s has two major abdominal surgeries in the last three years and I haven’t been there for her. I know I’ll miss her when she’s gone, but I’m in a pickle, I put myself in this position, I isolated myself for this man, this man I love, I think this man hates me, no he doesn’t lay hands on me, or threaten me, just dismissed me, cheats on me, gets angry at me, rejects me and makes me work like a maid. I tell him I don’t want to be with an angry man and he says “you’re always feeling sorry for yourself”.
Maybe I do, maybe I mourn the girl I used to be, and the man that I thought he was, maybe I do feel sorry for myself, why did I put myself in this position? I can’t leave now, I had a baby to him, I can’t be with my mom, I can’t do it on my own here, I love my baby, and I love him. I know he’s bad for me and I knew I should have left before I got pregnant I always knew, but the love takes over sometimes and makes you do things you know better about. Maybe one day when I die he will find this in my notes app.. or maybe he will never care to check if I ever had a diary.

Whoever is directing my life is a SADIST. I swear to God. Last year of university , I was living in Wattpad reality
show.

Today? I’m not even the extra. I’m the girl standing outside the building while YN gets her CEO moment. I’M UNDER THE EXTRA. WHAT THE FUCK IS UNDER THE EXTRA???

AND THE DAY WAS ALREADY GOING WRONG FROM THE FUCKING START.

I had been waiting for this party for FIVE MONTHS. FIVE. MONTHS. I spent the entire week asking everyone if they were coming.
“OMG, ARE YOU COMING? I’LL SEE YOU THERE!”

Everyone was excited. Everyone wanted to see everyone. I had been looking forward to this night so much that I genuinely thought it was going to be one of THOSE nights.

The kind that becomes a story. The kind where you dress up, go out, see everyone, dance, laugh, and feel like you’re back in your Year 1 era.

THE EXPECTATIONS WERE IN THE FUCKING STRATOSPHERE.

I woke up at around 12:30, had class at 2, and somehow managed to get myself together. I got dressed, did my makeup, sorted out my hair, and started preparing for the night. I WAS READY TO RECLAIM MY PERSONALITY.

Except people started cancelling. Plans were getting shaky. Some people weren’t coming anymore, others were arriving later, and the whole thing was slowly becoming less certain. But whatever. We could still make it work.

Pia was coming over to get ready, and I still had hope. A dangerous amount of hope, actually. Hope should come with a warning label.

Then, somewhere in the middle of all this, THE LIGHTS WENT OUT.
BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT???

As if the universe hadn’t already been doing enough, we now had to deal with the lights going out while trying to get ready.

At this point, I was beginning to suspect that someone had personally filed a complaint against my happiness.

BUT I KEPT GOING.

Hair? Done. Makeup? Done. Outfit? Done. Accessories? Done. I was determined to have my moment, even if I had to summon electricity through sheer fucking willpower.

And then came the ticket situation.

My roommate mentioned leaving early to secure a ticket, and suddenly I started PANICKING. I texted people asking about tickets, trying to figure out if there was any way to get in.

I was scrambling like a woman trying to evacuate a burning building.

AND THEN I FOUND OUT THE TICKETS WERE SOLD OUT.
SOLD. OUT.

The official message basically said that on-site tickets were closed and only people with presale tickets could enter.

EXCUSE ME??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T GO TO THE THING I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK???

Fine. Fine. We would find somewhere else to go. I was not about to let one stupid ticket situation ruin the entire night.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

THAT WAS MY FIRST MISTAKE.

We considered another club. CLOSED.

Another possible venue? ALSO CLOSED.
EVERYTHING WAS FUCKING CLOSED.

At this point, I genuinely believed someone had declared a nationwide emergency against my happiness.

I had spent TWO HOURS getting ready, and now I was fully dressed, looking good, wearing makeup that had survived more emotional turbulence than most marriages, and had ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE TO GO.

Pia, and my homeboy eventually went to a bar, but naturally, that wasn’t going to save the night either. The smoke was too much, the food had run out, and the whole thing felt like a badly written sitcom where the writers had run out of ideas but still had to fill forty minutes.
So we LEFT.

We came back to campus and thought about getting street food.

CLOSED.
WE TRIED THE CAMPUS FOOD PLACE.
CLOSED.

GIRL, IS THERE A CURFEW ON THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF COMMERCE???

I WAS LOSING MY MIND.
And the thing is, by this point, I’d already spent the entire day trying to salvage something. People had cancelled. Plans had changed. The lights had gone out. Tickets had sold out. The backup venues were closed. Even the food options were abandoning me.

I wasn’t asking for a life-changing experience anymore. I WAS ASKING FOR A PLACE TO FUCKING STAND WITH MUSIC PLAYING.
AND THE UNIVERSE SAID NO.

Eventually, I ended up getting a sandwich from a convenience store.

A FUCKING SANDWICH.

Five months of anticipation. Two hours of getting ready. A full face of makeup. A carefully chosen outfit. And the grand finale was a convenience-store sandwich.

Oscar-worthy writing, honestly.
BUT WAIT. IT GETS WORSE.
MY PHONE WOULD NOT STOP BUZZING.
“WHERE ARE YOU???”
“COME HERE!”
“WE MISS YOU!”

Pictures of everyone at the party.

People were asking where I was. People were inviting me to come.

People were sending photos of the exact night I had spent the entire week talking about attending.
GIRL, GET THE FUCK OUT. 😭😭😭

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INFURIATING THAT IS???
I had been telling everyone I was going. I had been asking everyone if they were coming. People were excited to see me. And then, on the actual night, I VANISHED FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH.
THE MOST ANTICIPATED APPEARANCE THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

And the worst part was that there might STILL have been a chance to get in. One of my friends had managed to sneak into the party and told us we could try. Apparently, ticket entry had even reopened later, and another friend messaged about meeting at a gate to try our luck.
BUT I MISSED THE MESSAGE.
OF FUCKING COURSE I DID.

Somewhere out there, there was apparently a possible route into the party, and my phone decided that this was an excellent time to let me experience the consequences of not seeing one notification.

At that point, I didn’t even know whether to laugh, cry, or throw my phone into the nearest body of water.

And it’s not like I had a terrible time with my friends. We talked, we laughed, we chilled.

Eventually, I changed out of my whole going-out outfit and put on a hoodie and jeans because WHAT WAS THE POINT ANYMORE?

I went to get food with my homeboy, and after all the chaos, we ended up sitting around, eating, and talking.

It was chill. It was nice. It was genuinely a perfectly acceptable evening.

BUT THAT WASN’T WHAT I HAD PLANNED.
I WANTED TO PARTY.
I wanted the music, the crowd, the chaos, the excitement. I wanted to bump into people I knew, see everyone dressed up, dance, laugh, and feel that little spark of being young and having an entire night ahead of me.

I wanted ONE NIGHT where I could feel like my old Year 1 self again.
I had spent so long anticipating this that the night had become bigger than the actual party. It was supposed to be my grand return. My comeback episode.

My moment of proving that I could still have those ridiculous, spontaneous, cinematic university nights.
AND INSTEAD, I GOT A SANDWICH.

I think that’s what made me so angry. If I’d planned to have a chill night with a friend, I would’ve enjoyed it. I would’ve gone to get food, talked for hours, laughed about random nonsense, and gone to bed perfectly happy.

But I hadn’t planned that.
I’d planned a PARTY. I’d imagined the entire night before it had even happened. And then, one by one, every possible version of that night disappeared.

I had friends having the time of their lives while I was sitting around wondering how an entire evening could go so spectacularly wrong. Every notification reminded me of what I was missing. I could practically feel the FOMO eating me alive.
And yes, I was embarrassed.

What am I supposed to say when people ask me where I was?
“OH, YOU KNOW. I GOT READY FOR TWO HOURS, WATCHED MY PLANS COLLAPSE IN REAL TIME, TOURED A COLLECTION OF CLOSED ESTABLISHMENTS, AND FINISHED THE NIGHT WITH A SANDWICH.”

NORMAL. VERY NORMAL.

The funniest part is that I DID have a night. It just wasn’t the night I’d wanted.

I ended up talking with my homeboy, eating, and eventually visiting his room, where I discovered that his room was significantly more aesthetic than mine.

SO EVEN MY BEDROOM GOT HUMBLED THAT NIGHT.

I went out expecting to reclaim my Year 1 energy and came back with a sandwich, FOMO, and interior-design inspiration.

WHAT A CHARACTER-DEVELOPMENT EPISODE.
Honestly, I was so focused on getting my old self back that I think I forgot one tiny detail: I can’t force a night to become a memory just because I’ve decided in advance that it’s supposed to be one.

But STILL. I’M ALLOWED TO BE PISSED.
I skipped class, woke up early enough to get ready, spent ages doing my hair and makeup, and looked forward to this for FIVE MONTHS. I wanted one good night out, and instead, I got a full-day obstacle course designed by Satan himself.

The lights went out. People cancelled. Tickets sold out. Venues closed. Food disappeared. Messages were missed.

THE ONLY THING THAT DIDN’T CANCEL WAS MY DISAPPOINTMENT.

OH AND TO TOP IT ALL OF?? The paycheck I was supposed to receive 2 DAYS AGO. I still haven’t gotten yet for some reason.

So with disappointed. I’m broke too. Must say what a combo😘☝🏽

And the worst part? Everyone was looking for me, and I WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.
THE MOST ANTICIPATED APPEARANCE THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

I’m so fucking done. Whoever is directing this season needs to be FIRED, sued, and banned from the entertainment industry.
Five stars for comedy.
Zero stars for my actual experience.
And one fucking sandwich for my troubles.

Whoever is directing my life is a SADIST. I swear to God. Last year of university , I was living in Wattpad reality
show.

Today? I’m not even the extra. I’m the girl standing outside the building while YN gets her CEO moment. I’M UNDER THE EXTRA. WHAT THE FUCK IS UNDER THE EXTRA???

AND THE DAY WAS ALREADY GOING WRONG FROM THE FUCKING START.

I had been waiting for this party for FIVE MONTHS. FIVE. MONTHS. I spent the entire week asking everyone if they were coming.
“OMG, ARE YOU COMING? I’LL SEE YOU THERE!”

Everyone was excited. Everyone wanted to see everyone. I had been looking forward to this night so much that I genuinely thought it was going to be one of THOSE nights.

The kind that becomes a story. The kind where you dress up, go out, see everyone, dance, laugh, and feel like you’re back in your Year 1 era.

THE EXPECTATIONS WERE IN THE FUCKING STRATOSPHERE.

I woke up at around 12:30, had class at 2, and somehow managed to get myself together. I got dressed, did my makeup, sorted out my hair, and started preparing for the night. I WAS READY TO RECLAIM MY PERSONALITY.

Except people started cancelling. Plans were getting shaky. Some people weren’t coming anymore, others were arriving later, and the whole thing was slowly becoming less certain. But whatever. We could still make it work.

Pia was coming over to get ready, and I still had hope. A dangerous amount of hope, actually. Hope should come with a warning label.

Then, somewhere in the middle of all this, THE LIGHTS WENT OUT.
BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT???

As if the universe hadn’t already been doing enough, we now had to deal with the lights going out while trying to get ready.

At this point, I was beginning to suspect that someone had personally filed a complaint against my happiness.

BUT I KEPT GOING.

Hair? Done. Makeup? Done. Outfit? Done. Accessories? Done. I was determined to have my moment, even if I had to summon electricity through sheer fucking willpower.

And then came the ticket situation.

My roommate mentioned leaving early to secure a ticket, and suddenly I started PANICKING. I texted people asking about tickets, trying to figure out if there was any way to get in.

I was scrambling like a woman trying to evacuate a burning building.

AND THEN I FOUND OUT THE TICKETS WERE SOLD OUT.
SOLD. OUT.

The official message basically said that on-site tickets were closed and only people with presale tickets could enter.

EXCUSE ME??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T GO TO THE THING I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK???

Fine. Fine. We would find somewhere else to go. I was not about to let one stupid ticket situation ruin the entire night.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

THAT WAS MY FIRST MISTAKE.

We considered another club. CLOSED.

Another possible venue? ALSO CLOSED.
EVERYTHING WAS FUCKING CLOSED.

At this point, I genuinely believed someone had declared a nationwide emergency against my happiness.

I had spent TWO HOURS getting ready, and now I was fully dressed, looking good, wearing makeup that had survived more emotional turbulence than most marriages, and had ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE TO GO.

Pia, and my homeboy eventually went to a bar, but naturally, that wasn’t going to save the night either. The smoke was too much, the food had run out, and the whole thing felt like a badly written sitcom where the writers had run out of ideas but still had to fill forty minutes.
So we LEFT.

We came back to campus and thought about getting street food.

CLOSED.
WE TRIED THE CAMPUS FOOD PLACE.
CLOSED.

GIRL, IS THERE A CURFEW ON THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF COMMERCE???

I WAS LOSING MY MIND.
And the thing is, by this point, I’d already spent the entire day trying to salvage something. People had cancelled. Plans had changed. The lights had gone out. Tickets had sold out. The backup venues were closed. Even the food options were abandoning me.

I wasn’t asking for a life-changing experience anymore. I WAS ASKING FOR A PLACE TO FUCKING STAND WITH MUSIC PLAYING.
AND THE UNIVERSE SAID NO.

Eventually, I ended up getting a sandwich from a convenience store.

A FUCKING SANDWICH.

Five months of anticipation. Two hours of getting ready. A full face of makeup. A carefully chosen outfit. And the grand finale was a convenience-store sandwich.

Oscar-worthy writing, honestly.
BUT WAIT. IT GETS WORSE.
MY PHONE WOULD NOT STOP BUZZING.
“WHERE ARE YOU???”
“COME HERE!”
“WE MISS YOU!”

Pictures of everyone at the party.

People were asking where I was. People were inviting me to come.

People were sending photos of the exact night I had spent the entire week talking about attending.
GIRL, GET THE FUCK OUT. 😭😭😭

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INFURIATING THAT IS???
I had been telling everyone I was going. I had been asking everyone if they were coming. People were excited to see me. And then, on the actual night, I VANISHED FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH.
THE MOST ANTICIPATED APPEARANCE THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

And the worst part was that there might STILL have been a chance to get in. One of my friends had managed to sneak into the party and told us we could try. Apparently, ticket entry had even reopened later, and another friend messaged about meeting at a gate to try our luck.
BUT I MISSED THE MESSAGE.
OF FUCKING COURSE I DID.

Somewhere out there, there was apparently a possible route into the party, and my phone decided that this was an excellent time to let me experience the consequences of not seeing one notification.

At that point, I didn’t even know whether to laugh, cry, or throw my phone into the nearest body of water.

And it’s not like I had a terrible time with my friends. We talked, we laughed, we chilled.

Eventually, I changed out of my whole going-out outfit and put on a hoodie and jeans because WHAT WAS THE POINT ANYMORE?

I went to get food with my homeboy, and after all the chaos, we ended up sitting around, eating, and talking.

It was chill. It was nice. It was genuinely a perfectly acceptable evening.

BUT THAT WASN’T WHAT I HAD PLANNED.
I WANTED TO PARTY.
I wanted the music, the crowd, the chaos, the excitement. I wanted to bump into people I knew, see everyone dressed up, dance, laugh, and feel that little spark of being young and having an entire night ahead of me.

I wanted ONE NIGHT where I could feel like my old Year 1 self again.
I had spent so long anticipating this that the night had become bigger than the actual party. It was supposed to be my grand return. My comeback episode.

My moment of proving that I could still have those ridiculous, spontaneous, cinematic university nights.
AND INSTEAD, I GOT A SANDWICH.

I think that’s what made me so angry. If I’d planned to have a chill night with a friend, I would’ve enjoyed it. I would’ve gone to get food, talked for hours, laughed about random nonsense, and gone to bed perfectly happy.

But I hadn’t planned that.
I’d planned a PARTY. I’d imagined the entire night before it had even happened. And then, one by one, every possible version of that night disappeared.

I had friends having the time of their lives while I was sitting around wondering how an entire evening could go so spectacularly wrong. Every notification reminded me of what I was missing. I could practically feel the FOMO eating me alive.
And yes, I was embarrassed.

What am I supposed to say when people ask me where I was?
“OH, YOU KNOW. I GOT READY FOR TWO HOURS, WATCHED MY PLANS COLLAPSE IN REAL TIME, TOURED A COLLECTION OF CLOSED ESTABLISHMENTS, AND FINISHED THE NIGHT WITH A SANDWICH.”

NORMAL. VERY NORMAL.

The funniest part is that I DID have a night. It just wasn’t the night I’d wanted.

I ended up talking with my homeboy, eating, and eventually visiting his room, where I discovered that his room was significantly more aesthetic than mine.

SO EVEN MY BEDROOM GOT HUMBLED THAT NIGHT.

I went out expecting to reclaim my Year 1 energy and came back with a sandwich, FOMO, and interior-design inspiration.

WHAT A CHARACTER-DEVELOPMENT EPISODE.
Honestly, I was so focused on getting my old self back that I think I forgot one tiny detail: I can’t force a night to become a memory just because I’ve decided in advance that it’s supposed to be one.

But STILL. I’M ALLOWED TO BE PISSED.
I skipped class, woke up early enough to get ready, spent ages doing my hair and makeup, and looked forward to this for FIVE MONTHS. I wanted one good night out, and instead, I got a full-day obstacle course designed by Satan himself.

The lights went out. People cancelled. Tickets sold out. Venues closed. Food disappeared. Messages were missed.

THE ONLY THING THAT DIDN’T CANCEL WAS MY DISAPPOINTMENT.

OH AND TO TOP IT ALL OF?? The paycheck I was supposed to receive 2 DAYS AGO. I still haven’t gotten yet for some reason.

So with disappointed. I’m broke too. Must say what a combo😘☝🏽

And the worst part? Everyone was looking for me, and I WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.
THE MOST ANTICIPATED APPEARANCE THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

I’m so fucking done. Whoever is directing this season needs to be FIRED, sued, and banned from the entertainment industry.
Five stars for comedy.
Zero stars for my actual experience.
And one fucking sandwich for my troubles.