Personal Space? Not in Manila

For someone who's terrified of people, Manila is a breathing stinking humid nightmare.

My train ride to school was annoyingly crowded as usual.  I always ride the cart for women and old people because I don't enjoy grinding against greasy boys and, let's be honest, boys smell bad.

I was lucky enough to get a seat but was unlucky enough to sit beside 2 kids.  Kids.  I hate kids.  They are shameless.  The little girl beside me kept resting her head on my shoulder.  Irritating!  Then a butch stood infront of me and she was so close her inner thighs were rubbing against my knobby (and wounded!) knee.  Thank god she was wearing pants.

And then I take out my phone and the little girl beside me got all curious and leaned closer to read my texts.  But it doesn't stop there.  She just had to put her hand on my left boob.  Really, little girl?  

So there, in a cramped space in the middle of Manila, my knees where getting humped and my boob...pumped. (I just had to...)