*face palm*

:|

…

*inhale deeply…exhale slowly*

as-salaamu alaikum

I think a common fear found amongst very nice people is that they’re afraid that they’ll come off as rude.

I’m a nice person. I bet you a million dollars that I’m one of the top ten nicest people you’ll ever meet in your lifetime. (Okay, ten is pushing it…maybe twenty?…thirty?…) Anyways, I’m pretty darned nice if I do say so myself. And I strive to be, because there are few things that set me off more than someone who is mean for the sake of being mean, or someone who reacts harshly in situations where they could easily have been gentler and polite. I see no point in just being a rude, mean person. What do you accomplish other than the reputation of being a jerk?

So, please understand, I strive to be nice. Now being ‘mean’ to your best friends is different. Your best friends are some of the few people you can actually be ‘rude’ or ‘mean’ with little or no consequence because, hey, they’re your best friends and you’re probably just joking with them anyways. Like the time I teased my pal Desiree for studying the wrong set of vocab words for a test. I called her the biggest loser on earth and we both laughed it off. She knows I’m not serious and that I love her to death. We have that trust.

Mkay. Now that you understand that I’m nice and you can be mean to your friends, I can tell you about something that’s been EATING AWAY AT MY CHEST FOR A WEEK NOW. >:|

It all started with a song. My teacher re-arranged our seating temporarily for a song. I was a little bummed because I was moved away from all my friends, and was seated next to girls whom I have never talked to before. I said hi to both of them, not wanting to seem rude. I ended up sharing a book with one of them. Let’s call them Fabio (I don’t know what their real name is anyway). I ended up sharing a book with Fabio and we talked the small talk and everything was cool and my teacher let us go back to our seats. I did not speak nor see Fabio again until a week later. She asked if she could sit by me, being that her other friends were gone for some reason and she didn’t want to be lonely. I saw no harm in letting her sit by me.

Oh, how WRONG I was.

Everything was cool at the beginning. We talked the small talk. Walked the small walk. Smile at silly observations. But things began to get weird. Fabio would make random noises for extended amounts of time that, in short, ANNOYED THE CRAP OUT OF ME. She’s began asking weird questions. Get into these strange mood swings. And all and all…ANNOY THE CRAP OUT OF ME. And, honestly, I felt horrible for it.

“Give her a chance.” I kept telling myself, “Just give her a chance and try to get used to her.” Because, I don’t know, I know how it feels to be excluded and feel left out when all you want is to be excepted and make a friend. It’s far from fun. So I was determined to tolerate her. Let her tests my patience and give hints as to whenever I am “not amused.”

It didn’t work. Everyday, the more I had strived to like her, the more I found that I disliked her. Especially after I was whacked in the face by her with a rolled sheet of music. Now, that would’ve been hilarious, if we had gained enough trust between the each other to the point where I considered her a friend (See why I brought it up?) but it wasn’t. It was annoying.

And, well, today, THE LINE WAS CROSSED.

Mock Trial was planning a group picture today (got cancelled, by the by. LOL) so I had to call my mum after class to let her know. My BANANA BUDDY Shelby decided to walk over with me and that was all fine and dandy. After several tries to get a free line, I finally dial in what I thought was my number.

“Hello?” A voice that was not my mother’s answered. Me being me, I freaked out and slammed the phone back down, hanging up. I look at Shelby in horror. “I think I forgot my phone number.”

We have a good laugh, poking fun at my dilemma when FABIO appears from the corner of my eye. I tried ignoring her, trying again to get an open line and praying that somehow my number would come back to me.

“Here, let me see.” Fabio says in the midst of my trying and snatches it out of my hand. I WTH’d. As if I didn’t know that you have to re-dial “869″ over and over to get a free line. Finally, she gets one, and hands me the phone.

“Thanks…” I say, when in reality what I wanted to say was, “GEE THANKS! ‘CAUSE LIKE, AS IF I HADN’T BEEN DOING THE SAME THING BEFORE YOU GRABBED THE PHONE FROM ME.”

But remember…I’m nice. :)

So there I am trying to remember my number with Shelby giggling at me and the rest of my friends showing up by then. I had the first six digits punched in.

“I wanna say the last ones are 5555″ I jokingly tell Shelby.  (*Note that I say 5555 for the sake of the story. Lawls)

and as my hands are REACHING over to the keypad to punch in those buttons, FABIO’S hands reach over and do it for me. Then she GRABS THE PHONE AND JAMS IT IN MY FACE.

Now before I continue, I want you to do something for me. Visualise your best friend right now. Visualise them! Got it? Wave at them and imagine them waving back. You ready for this? Okay, now imagine your best friend doing EXACTLY what Fabio did to me. Having a hard time doing it? Gee, I wonder why. Probably ’cause FRIENDS DON’T DO THAT KIND OF THING TO FRIENDS.

I was astonished! Is this girl for real? Does she seriously think she has to right to just do that? You know how close I was to yelling

“EXCUSE ME?! I HAVE TWO HANDS THAT I’M QUITE CAPABLE OF USING MYSELF THANKS. COULD YOU BACK OFF?”?!?!?

Only, like a hero, I restrained myself and only rolled my eyes. ;)

But for reals. I don’t know how much I can take anymore. I’ve had it up to HERE *strains to get hand as high up in the air as possible* WITH HER. One day people, it’s going to be no more Mrs. Nice Ayat. I will snap one day. I can feel it. All my patience is being sucked from my body like a dry sponge soaks up water. I’ve tried so hard to be nice, but come on. There’s only so much a poor girl can take.

Some people, I find, just do not  mix. Just aren’t meant to be friends. No matter how hard you try. :/