How A Bad Day Is

I just want to share with you how a bad evening/night, in specific, occurs in my house. I do not know how you would feel in my shoes but you can try to see from my point of view.

Let us start with waking up in the morning. Eyelid flutter open and the feeling of the sunlight stream in from the window. I lie under the covers waiting for my alarm to go off but it does not. Too early again. I get up either by body clock or awoken by someone moving around in "my" room. I check my phone and it lies there beside me. I remember what I did last night. Must have forgot to put it on the table again.

I fall asleep again into light sleep. Being awoken the moment my mother tries to pry my phone from my hands. I must have dozed off again with it there. In the end, I get up and succumb to the every morning rituals of brushing my teeth, washing my face, brushing my hair, breakfast and just aimlessly walking around my house or room.

Back to my room after breakfast to finish up the homework which are due to my horrible habit of procrastination. It is bad indeed. Why don't I finish it during the weekdays? Hard habit to break. My family and I leave the house to obtain our meal of the day, lunch. Lunch then tuition for me but grocery shopping for my brother and mother. All sunny and no storm cloud in sight, for now.

The food churn in my digestive system and the drowsiness kicks in. This unbearable feeling of wanting to nap with the relaxing yet piercing cold air circulating the room makes tuition class slightly less appealing. My brain is on the verge of shutting off. Deja vu moment when I realise I have seen this in my dreams before. How quaint.

I am greeted with the breeze that tags along with the million of rain droplets pounding on the roofs, roads, cars and people as I exit the tuition centre. No softball due to the rain and thus I go home to do my several miscellaneous things.

The bad day starts when my mother calls me down to help her cook. For your information, she only cooks on some Sundays. This week she wants to teach my brother and I new things. I comply by walking downstairs and helping but my brother still has his butt glued to the chair in front of the computer. League of Legends again. I do not know why she flared up when I was just telling her about the computer.

She magically presumed I was complaining about the computer and my brother. She started shouting on top of her voice. You could feel the air around me shake and shiver in fear. You can hear her voice echo slightly. This continues to go on as she cooks. It is then I realise, my family members are quite temperamental. I think to myself "I should just keep quiet next time." Sometimes you just have to keep quiet and let everything swirl around you violently as you wait the storm out underneath that small piece palm leaf. Dangerous isn't it?

I had to use the computer to play these brain games from the Lumosity web page. Not so great when you have someone babbling and talking about other children of her friends along with their achievements and discipline. How they study by themselves even when their parents are away at work, not play computer games and like somebody she knows. How they are not involved in any relationships and their amazing jobs, scholarships.

The moment someone shouts at you something about you not thinking or using your brain. We all know people say stupid things that they do not really mean when they are angry. It just slip of the tongue or heat of the moment. Does it make you feel slightly dumber than you really are? Does it lower your self esteem? People expect so much higher than what you are but are never satisfied with what you do.

This is how life is sometimes. You look down on yourself and when they find out you do, they scold you. You just never have the words to explain to them that you are part of the cause. Sadly if you do they get angrier in most cases. You just pour oil into fire and end up burning yourself to a crisp.

I heard from someone that whenever I write, I always write in a very sad tone. I hold on to the bad past and I just cannot remember most of the memories. It gets jumbled up and becomes a messy blot of ink in my mind. No longer words or pictures but a blur of letters and colours. I am mad and sad? Perchance.