This week

In March of 2010 my parents split up.

When I was three I had a kidney infection that all the doctors thought was leukemia for a really long time.

Senior year I spent two weeks glued to the couch because I had mono.

In one week in late July early August 2010, My cousin was born 4 months early had very slim chance of survival, my grandfather was hospitalized and another cousin was hospitalized for skateboarding down a hill onto oncoming traffic.

I've spent weeks heartbroken, depressed and lonely.

Please don't think that I'm trying to be dramatic. I'm trying to give some perspective so that when I say that this week has legitimately been the worst week of my life thus far, you don't think I'm being theatrical or hyperbolic or clever. This has honestly been the worst week of my life.

I won't go into details, because if you don't know the whole situation than you probably don't need to know, but Monday I received news that someone that I love more than life itself was in serious danger. I'm stuck an hour away with no way of getting to that person until Saturday.

On Tuesday, I experienced the worst sickness of my life as a reaction to that news. I've never actually had a my body react to my emotions that forcefully before. I could not breathe through my nose, my throat was sore, I had the worst headache of my life and I spent two hours in my bed shivering under my covers quite literally unable to move. I had mono last year. Tuesday was worse.

I have a paper that's worth 50% of my English grade due on Tuesday. Along with a substantially less weighty, but equally as unignorable (not a word) paper for an different class and an exam due tomorrow.

And last night I did not sleep. At all. I was writing a paper till 2, but then Mallory(the roommate) and I started talking about some pretty deep stuff until we realized that it was 5:23 and attempting to sleep and get up for school a few hours later would be more detrimental than helpful. So I've been up for the past 32 hours, literally running solely on caffeine. I'm going to use that as an excuse for how terrible my writing has been/is going to be.

This week has been awful. I'm tired, I'm stressed, on 24 different levels and I cry at the drop of a hat. If there has ever been a week for me not to get spit on, this would be the week.
But no. I totally got spat on.

Walking back to my apartment from my last class of the day, a person physically spits on me. And not a regular spit. A tobacco spit.

First can I just say how disgusting that is to even be chewing tobacco in the first place. I mean, if you're going to be feeding a nicotine addiction, smoking is like 75% cooler. And you are 99.9% less likely to spit on me.

This is how the whole thing went down:
Walking, walking, walking, walking, not paying any attention to my surroundings, walking...

I hear a weird, bubbly, high pitched sequel-y noise comes from out of no where.

I feel some light pressure on my left pant leg.

I feel moisture on my foot.

I realize what happened.

I really had no response to this. The guy looked at me like he was genuinely sorry, but didn't say anything.

I couldn't either. First of all, I was in sock that it happened. I mean, I've never been (unintentionally) spit on.

I would say that I was proud of myself for exercising grace in the quad, and not using any and all of my combative sentences, or favorite curse words, but really I didn't have anything in mind to say. I just kind of stared at the guy. And for a second, it was almost like he could tell that my week had been one thing piling on top of the other.

I'm not really sure if that's what was going on in his mind, or if his naturally relaxed face is one of concern and empathy much like mine is one of anger and dissatisfaction, because I turned as fast I could and walked away.

Because I was crying.

Like, I said, drop of a hat.

It wasn't so much that I was upset that I got spat on, as it was the complete and utter symbolism in the act. He had spat on me. School had spat on me. Life had spat on me this week. And not a regular, mildly gross flemmy, but all together in-retrospect-not-that-bad spit, but a spit filled with all kinds of nasty stuff, that comes with addition and death and I guess in this case loosing your jaw. Isn't that was chewing tobacco is supposed to do? I'm not really sure.

But yeah, that happened.