One Rant at a Time, Please.

If only they would stop spamming me, I would be a better version of myself. The one who doesn't twist her thumb into the handle of her handbag slung from her shoulder while crossing the road. May be, if they stopped spamming me, my face would grow smaller and I wouldn't have this penchant for midnight smoking. If they stopped spamming me, I would get up earlier, sleep earlier, have longer days and on the contrary, longer nights as well. If they stopped spamming me 24 fucking 7, I would not have to distract myself constantly from what's important to me with the utter nonsense that consumes all my time. If only they stopped sending me texts about Ladies' Night offers and about cash back of three hundred bucks, or if I needed a motherfucking credit card, I would be less angry all the time. If they left me alone, if they just left me alone and kept that useless secret of how many reward points I had (couldn't care any less), or what stocks I should pick, or till when their mega sale is extended to, or how much discount they offer (no matter what I do, I am poor, poverty is my religion). If only I could find a way to unsubscribe and close the chapter. I send texts and mails  and missed calls and never stop unsubscribing, yet they keep spamming me from newer avenues. They are tireless and I am dead. In the long run. In the short run, I am so exhausted and waiting for any leeway to allow me to become a better, less fucked up as this version of myself. I am.

If they just let a human being speak to me every time I called the customer care, I would be a far better person than I so pretend to be. If I didn't have to select the motherfucking language every time, each and every time and dial 1 and then 4 and then 7 and then 0 again and then 9 and then # to repeat the options because I was distracted and had passed into a coma by just dialing and then * to go back to previous menu, because there is nothing here. This menu is just as empty and pointless as my current life. And then call back again and again and then get lost in loops and hoops waiting to speak to a human being who could ask how they would help me today, yes that. But nobody ever. And once they do, by that fraction of chance in the cosmos, they fucking hangup before I have even begun asking what I need to know. You understand my misery. I doubt you would. My call is not important to you, so don't you tell me that again. They would sincerely wait for me to tweet them some shit and they would listen. Sometimes, not even then, that audacity. I am largely inconsequential woman, I get that, large and inconsequential, but I have earned the right to speak to a human being. Dontcha fuckin hang up on me, ever.

I just can't. Just can't. 

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