But I don't even believe in karma?

I'm gonna make this post like one of those artsy films where they show you the ending scene first, and then spend the rest of the time explaining how everything got to that point. Picture me looking run down, soaking wet, mascara smeared across my cheeks, and my hair plastered to my forehead. I probably could have supported a small freshwater ecosystem in the ponds chilling in my shoes. Miserable, cold, so close to tears.

I made it to school today with plenty of time to spare before class, checked my bloglines, did things like usual. After eating a particularly nasty (green, sour, who likes granny smith?) apple I knew I had to get some water ASAP to wash out the acidic nast taste. I thought I'd be all sly and head over to 99 chairs (a campus restaurant) where I regularly steal water. I was bragging to my friend once about how I always walk in there, go to the back tables all nonchalontly, pretend that I know someone and then go straight for the free (if you buy something) water jugs. He basically had to break it to me that they probably see me, don't care because it's WATER, and let me do it; I prefer to think that the consequences, if discovered, would be unfathomable. I like to feel a little rebellious. Anyways, so today, did the water scam, encountered a little eye to eye with the waitress, played it cool, and made it out unscathed.

It didn't take me 30 seconds to realize that I'd be walking to my next class in a torrential downpour, and all I had to protect myself was a flimsy sweatshirt hood, a stupid cropped jacket, and a bottle of stolen water (bottle payed for by me). About 10 minutes into my walk I started to think that I might not be able to make it. Not only was it raining harder than I can ever remember, it was winding like a Chicago breeze. Thoughts of that part in Forest Gump where he describes rain coming from the top down, bottom up, and sideways raced through my head as I considered huddleing up in the fetal position and drowning myself in a ditch. Everyone was passing by me with their umbrellas that called out to me and said "Hey you, yeah you, drowned rat girl. JEALOUS!?" I had to mutter in compliance, "Yes." I knew that the rain and the wind were beating the crap out of me when the umbrellas started talking...I think I hit rock bottom when I realized that my stupid cropped jacket wasn't even water proof, and felt the water seeping in through my t-shirt. I finally looked down at the stupid bottle of water I was clutching and tried to pry it from my frozen fingers. Turns out my hands were so cold that they shattered like ice cubes and I had to pick up my fragmented fingers out of a puddle. Maybe that was the low point. I was so mad at the stupid stolen water; that same kind of anger you feel towards inanimate objects that you bump into and stub your toes on. I didn't want to look at its ugly face any longer. I set it down on the recycling bin and bid it a silent farewell. I couldn't help but think about how badly I had wanted that water, the lengths to which I had fought for it, and the slight numbness in my toes. Alright, I was basically just thinking about my toes, how f'n stupid water is, and that's probably why it'll rain tomorrow.