Freaking out

Last night in an attempt to find something, anything, to distract me from doing my exam for my crisis class, I picked up my Cosmo and begin to read. This was probably the third or fourth time that I've looked through the magazine, but this time I actually read a couple of the articles. This is something that I began to regret as soon as I was finished with the last article. I stupidly chose to read an article titled, "The place most rapes happen." What the hell was I thinking?

Apparently I wasn't because I saw the title of the article and still began to read it. So they begin the article by giving examples of women who were attacked, raped or murdered inside their house or right outside their house. They go on to tell me, a girl who is 23 and is still scared of the dark and will talk on the phone and pretend she's discussing her GUNS AND SHIT with a 7-foot dude who just got out of prison for CUTTING SOMEONE when in reality she is talking to a 5-foot 6-inch man who is sitting on his computer playing Party Poker and wearing a speedo while she takes trash to the dumpster, that more than half of all rapes and sexual assaults occur in a victim's home or within one mile of her residence. That's totally a fact that I could live without knowing.

So I read this fact and, because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, I continue to read and go on to finish the article. Once I'm done reading the piece, I begin to hear little noises around me and am convinced that I am about to be SEXUALLY ASSAULTED AND MURDERED (it turns out that the people above me had just flushed their toilet, but still. It could have been a rapist/murderer coming to get me). After I realized that the sound was simply the flushing of a toilet and not a rapist dressed in all black hiding in my apartment with a gun and a roll of duct tape, I went to my room and actually finished all eight pages of my crisis exam (that doesn't really have anything to do with this story, I'm just proud of myself for finishing because it's not due until Monday. That's right, I finished it four days early, people).

After I finish my exam (FOUR DAYS EARLY!), I decide to go to bed. I lay in bed for two hours just waiting to be sexually assaulted and murdered in my own home because that is the place where I feel the most safe (well I did before I read that article). Once I finally fall asleep, I have trouble staying that way. I wake up at least five times beause I am convinced that the murderer has cut the screen of my open window and climbed in and is preparing to cut me something awful (yes, I know I shouldn't leave my windows open, but it makes the difference between my electricity bill being $45 or $99). After a night of not so much sleep, I wake up and listen to my favorite morning show in the whole world. I'm laying in bed, laughing and listening until the local station comes on the air to do a news break. The first news story they talk about is that two people were murdered last night in Willow Creek Apartments on Shive Lane. That is awful. But what makes it eleventy times more awful is that I live in Ashton Parc Apartments on Shive Lane, which would be the apartments located right across the street from Willow Creek Apartments.

That's right. Two hundred feet away from where I am sitting on the couch, and later laying in bed, worrying about being sexually assaulted and murdered, there are two people being murdered. So I sit up in bed and start FREAKING OUT. I go in my roomate's room and wake her ass up and tell her (she doesn't seem to care too much, and that's why she'll be the one murdered instead of me, because I now know to be vigilant or at least carry around a bottle of oven cleaner. I read a book that said that shit can really mess someone up). So next of course I have to call my mom and tell her that her "smart and pretty child" (her words) was this close to being murdered last night (fingers held really, really close together so that the tiniest smidgen of light is allowed through). Of course she says she'd rather not know these kinds of things (although she loves to know the kinds of things like when I'm about to take a dump and believe me, I love to tell her those kinds of things).

The whole point of this post is to warn all of you who read this extremely interesting blog of this extremely interesting girl (hi all four of you...that's right I've found another person who can drag himself away from internet porn long enough to read some of my retardedness) that YOU ARE NO LONGER SAFE IN YOUR HOME. You need to find a new place to live, although you won't be safe for long there either.






This public service announcement has been brought to you by Cosmo magazine and a big ol' glass of Diet Dr. Pepper. Thanks for your time and attention.