Oh, Fuck you Bitch

They say, to err is human. And consequently I fall in the same category too. I will err. And err again. But every time, that I commit an error, a new lesson will be learnt by my sub-conscious mind. Though its not that life hasn’t taught my any lessons till now. After serving a long stint as an official nerd during my high school days, I am finally living up to the reputation of being a snob, a girl who couldn’t care less about her higher education and stuff. Needless to say, campus life teaches you a lot. It did to me as well. I am finally learning the complexities of being a bitch. The intricacies and importance of acting like a bitch. Like those girls who hop around in the choicest of clothes, their vocab updated with multi-lingual slang, can impress and date any damn guy in a jiffy and throw away attitude (so what, if half of the sane crowd ignores them? ). They still manage to draw the attention of a large amount of people who are popular and matter in the youth cult. Sigh! So, it’s decided. From now on, I’ll be bringing up my latest mini and Abercrombie racer-back. Will be acting as a mean “miss know-it-all”. I would poke fun at any and every girl whose dress is oh-so-last season. I’ll also build up a gang comprising of super-cool girls who can dress to impress (it doesn’t matter if they have nothing left in their upper levels, brains, I mean). But then, on second thoughts, what will be the difference left between me and them. I believe that I, like everyone else in the world, is completely unique. And no one can take my place, no matter what. I am happy being me, doesn’t matter if I remain at home every other Saturday night and don’t get frequent invitations for late-night partying. I at least have the sense to adjudge what’s wrong and what’s right? So, be it. I am happy being myself. The bitch business was never made out for me in the first place. So, why bother? Bring up those pajamas, tie up the hair in a bun, and nestle in the coziest spot of the room with a novel. Oh yes, I am happy being this. Could not and would not care two hoots about the snob gentry who love to dismiss the intellectual class as nerdy, un-happening and boring. Frankly, sweethearts, we couldn’t care less And, believe me, it feels like heaven when I address them in four simple words Oh, Fuck You Bitch