Friday evening. It’s raining. Again.

This is the part where I just admit that I’m over this. All of this. Especially the fucking motorcycles. It’s not my preferred method of transportation. It’s just not. It doesn’t feel safe. It’s not fun. God forbid it starts raining, like it did just now. And, of course, I hate the whole “helmet optional” thing. Like. No. That should not be an option. That should be a requirement. Especially in the fucking rain.

Also over the lack of sidewalks and the terrible street traffic and constantly having to dodge in and out of cars and bikes and trucks and dogs and tourists.

I need more order than this. I want sidewalks and trains and public transportation options. I want to to be able to just take a stroll with my umbrella and not constantly have to worry about whether or not I’m going to get run off the road.

Yeah, sorry I’m not fun and carefree. Sorry I am more concerned with my own personal safety. Sorry I don’t want to come home with grime all over my face and in my hair after I just washed it. Sorry I am high maintenance. Sorry I am not sorry.

Yeah can’t wait to go to Vietnam and deal with more of this knowing that this time, it’s my country to blame for it. Goodie. Can’t wait.

I just ventured out to try a new place on a different street. I looked forward to the highly-reviewed mac and cheese all day long. I asked for no bacon. Of course, they brought it out with bacon. I tried to be polite and just pick it off, but I could taste the fucking bacon all over it. I don’t eat pork. I especially don’t care for bacon. I hate the way it sizzles. It’s disgusting. It always makes me sick. Now I’m feeling sick.

Oh, and of course I have to look like the asshole because I said no bacon and they brought it out with bacon and then I took three bites and didn’t want to touch it after that. So of course all the other western white people think I’m the asshole because I said I didn’t like it. I didn’t even ask for it to be taken off the check because I’m used to people bringing me bacon when I’ve said no because they think there’s something wrong with me. Vegetarian? No problem. Vegan? No problem. Pescatarian? No problem. But god forbid you say you don’t eat pork. Suddenly you are Satan.

This shouldn’t even be an issue. Indonesia is a Muslim-majority country. Bali is a Hindu-majority state. Who the fuck is actually eating pork here except for western white people?!

They took it off the check anyway, which is fine, but I’d rather have just had them remake it with no fucking bacon and take it to go. Apparently that’s not an option. So now I get to look like an asshole because I wasn’t happy with my experience. God forbid you don’t have your whole Eat, Pray, Love experience here. Yep, I’m the asshole. Definitely.

And then I had to get on the stupid fucking motorcycle without a helmet, in the rain, and come all the way back here because sidewalks aren’t a fucking thing.

So, yeah, I’m over it. I’m over this whole thing. I just wanted to live in Hong Kong for a year. Why? Because it has sidewalks and trains and buses and trolleys and money and options and I don’t have to take a fucking motorcycle anywhere because the metro stop is right fucking there and goes everywhere in the city that I could ever need to go.

Ugh.

Yeah, sorry I’m not wild and fun and carefree. Sorry I hate the motorcycles. Sorry I can’t just go get a tattoo alone. Sorry I’m sick of fake gurus trying to sell me cures for my unhappiness when all I wanted to do was live in a modern city abroad for a year. Sorry I wanted to make friends who I could do fun things with because I’m sick and fucking tired of being alone all the time. Ugh.

Clearly I am the worst human being on earth.

Whatever.

I’m just gonna come right out and say it: the SEA is not for me. I’m over it. I’m just fucking over it.

I have zero interest in going out now. Oh boy, I can’t wait to sit at some club all alone and listen to the live music while all the married men in the room stare at me because they can’t just be satisfied with the woman sitting in front of them. So fun.

Yeah, just kidding.

Over it.

I’m just gonna put on my sweats and watch Netflix and try to get some sleep without having some ridiculous, crazy dream about an ex-boyfriend or a dead family member or a living family member who I don’t speak to anymore because they’re an asshole.

Hopefully I feel better in the morning. Somehow, I doubt it. What is there to look forward to anymore? What is there to believe in? What hope is there in this world?

Nothing. There’s nothing. Just more exploitation and bullshit.

Over it.