Rants of a hostelite: First few months

Hey Assholes. Yes I am pissed off. Does that count as being a social outcast? Well then, I never belonged to the society. It’s been a few months since I first moved into the hostel. This place is a serious gutter of  crap man! The room mates I have been living with are no less than bamboo splints up the ass. Bloody bastards. Who does not want to start his day by wishing his immediate neighbours a good morning. But the moment I wake up, I find my cigarettes missing. And there goes my day, down the drain. What I am offered as an explanation is just a cursory glance and a simple ” I dont know man” by each one of them. Then, my dear roomies, who the hell would know it? This place is for sure not haunted, you morons.

I didn't do it. The ghost did it.

I still pull myself out of the bed, every single day and the first thing  I see is that my slippers have been rendered wet and cannot be used. I mean how they do predict the exact things, which are sure to irritate the hell out of me. How? Then the

Okay, mine aren't so clean, but I don't like it when they are wet.

biscuit crumbs on the study table, clothes  on my chair and what not. God made them as a nemesis and room-mates all at once. I have been in this hell hole for almost six months and with each passing day I expect things to get a little better, but what is see is drastic and rapid fall in standards. The food quality has gone down from “edible with water” to “see, give a middle finger salute and get the fuck out of that place.” This is not good. Things have gone so wrong in the past six months and I can not wait to  see the end of it. I mean how bad can things go? I want to see the end of this fucking place before the Doom’s day predictions come true and the world comes to a quiet standstill.

The tube lights have not been changed. They still flicker overhead, playing hide and seek when it matters the most. Bloody Fuck! Even the fan now refuses to cooperate. Why does this world suddenly seem against me? And it is this feeling of self-victimisation that gets to all of us eventually I believe. The flickering lights and the malfunctioning fans have made writing this one piece of emotionally over-charged article difficult and almost impossible for now. I think I should clear up the bed (which just means pushing everything to one corner) and spend another night in uncomfortable slumber while the two room-mates try to match the symphony of their snores in such a way that it creates a mini Sonata called “Disturb this guy till he can’t take it any more”.

I could watch this movie on loop.

 

 

 

Another night of ears stuffed with cotton shall ensue shortly.

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