I am able to write this post because the Wi-Fi is working. I’ve been changing my schedule to suit the internet service provider for the past few weeks. My family and I have been after them, begging them to get it to be stable. Airtel seems uninterested in our woes. Clearly, they’re making a profit so what’s one unhappy customer? I guess they have a policy, let the haters keep hating.
I don’t know if it was the thirtieth call or my strongly worded e-mail but my Wi-Fi is finally showing four bars and I’m just going to make use of this window, before my internet conks again and I fall off the grid once more. Honestly, at this point I’ll take anything.
My studies have suffered a setback due to stress, internet woes and a lot of moving about. This weekend has been exhausting. I’m just glad it’s over really. I can’t wait to sit in one place and get to work in the coming week before it’s time to take off. You’ll be surprised to know how dependent I am on the internet. It visibly impacts my mood swings.
I also had a grand fall in the bathroom last night. I hit my heel on tile and now I am tiptoeing about the place. It wasn’t a particularly wonderful weekend, I am pretty sure I have a sleeping issue, my head has been throbbing for the past two days and the fall just certified the weekend as a rotten egg. When the clock strikes twelve, I hope the curse lifts.
I suppose I should stop ranting and write something beautiful and inspiring, but I am actually raging inside. I can try but it would all sound cynical at the moment. That’s mostly because I am tired, and just want to be left alone with my laptop. I’ve done enough talking to last me a week and I’ve smiled a lot, now I’m done with the pleasant version of myself.
I haven’t been able to think straight, to formulate verses, if you’re alone that’s easier to do. I can wish that the weekend should have been better, but I’ll just put it to rest and move on. I don’t want to allow the week to go bad because the weekend should have been better. If the internet was better, maybe it would have been better, who knows?
John Mayer is keeping me company right now and it takes the edge off, I suppose there is a ray of hope in my Bournvita and the working internet. I’ve found that when I am a little down, Bournvita helps, it might be the chocolate but it energises me.
Generation gaps are tough, they just don’t see the world the way I do and they think I know nothing. In their eyes, I can’t handle much. That’s what I was scared of when this gap year began, they would think I don’t know how to live. I never seem to do anything right.
My Dad has a new theory, that I stop breathing when I plug my earphones in, it isn’t medically proved mind you, it’s just his new take on my life. It’s good to know I can’t breathe right. Forget adulthood, I breathe wrong. They don’t seem to get it. They somehow take a bad day and make it worse. And it’s my fault if their day gets ruined too.
Every time they do this which is every weekend without fail, I realise why I need to find my own place one day. I realise the four years away from home were a necessity. I never miss home at times like this. My sister moved out and now it’s just me they have to parent. I was hoping the run up to 2019 would have been smooth, but as usual, it’s a rush and a tedious last mile.
My parents act more like children than we do, and the way they try to be adults is by telling their kids they’re doing everything wrong. I’m used to it now, when I was away I found it cute but after a year I would really love some change. I do this every week with them, and during the week I ignore them. My effort means nothing to them in front of my flaws.
I like being the bigger person, and I will stick with it. Recently everyone’s been telling me not to fake it, but whenever I’m sad my parents tell me to be happy. When I am stressed, they tell me I shouldn’t be. How can you be yourself around people who treat you like a bomb they’re trying to contain? They’re scared, and my fear only scares them more, my emotions make them more emotional.
I’ve been faking it since I was ten. When I’m sure they can take it, I’ll stop. I don’t know when that is. When my breath doesn’t bother them, I’ll show them the other bits of me. Woes on a weekend are sometimes deep-rooted.