littlewonder2

Little wonder we stumble in life.

Anxiety Cracks.

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The last few days have been muggy. And I’m not just talking about the humidity.

Monday, I had a sudden thought. It was a realisation that I didn’t know when I had written last, and that it had “been a while”.

Uh oh. That’s not good. How did that happen?

It was around 2pm. I hadn’t written all day. In fact, I hadn’t done anything all day, didn’t even realise I was meant to do anything. And when mum came home a couple of hours later, I heard about it.

“You didn’t do the laundry today like I asked, you didn’t do the dishes. What did you do today?” This, after I had been forced to admit I hadn’t written much today. (Couldn’t even focus enough to write for more than fifteen minutes, which I didn’t mention.)

The only thing close to productive I could admit to was being here on my blog that day. She was okay with that, though I was hesitant to admit it first, as though it wasn’t good enough (things like that rarely are to her).

To be honest, she’s rather unpredictable. One moment, I thought she’d yell at me, the next she was relaxed. You can never tell with her. She can be difficult to live with at times.

The following day was little better. I woke up around ten, half an hour earlier than the previous day. I knew I had things to do today. I was supposed to do at least two hours today, as a makeup from yesterday (and where did that come from? This is the first she’s mentioned making up work since…when?)

Plus, there was dishes… and laundry? I couldn’t remember. Either way, I didn’t see a way into either jobs, since dishes were stacked and laundry was a grey area. I visited wordpress around midday or one, after having lunch. I became distracted from my writing afterwards, but eventually cracked on.

I had to put my music in to focus with the noise around me. It helped, for a short while. But I managed little more than yesterday before I fuzzed out. I hoped a short break would help.

And before you know it, Kristi (little sister) is telling me mum called telling me to be ready as she was almost there. Damn, I forget. What was this for, again?

Off goes the TV. And there goes me, rushing around looking for my tennis shoes. It took a frazzled three searches over before I found them besides dad’s sofa chair.

I was pulling them on when I heard the beep. I tried to hurry out, and hesitantly strode up to the car and opened the door.

That’s not good enough, was her first reaction. “Change your shirt,” she said. So I rolled my eyes, and closed the door, striding back.

Beep. Sighing, I turned back and opened it again. “What?” I breathed.

“Go back and change your shirt.”

Yeah, I heard you the first time. “Okay…” I closed the door and moved a little faster.

Beeeep. What, again? Anything new this time?

“Hurry up.”

“Okay!” I jogged back, almost making it when —

BEEEEEEEEEEP.

I freaked out. It was bad enough I had done diddly squat the last two days, something she was likely to bag on me later for. I was sure this time it was some cruel, fucking unfair joke, because I know how insultingly ignorant she can occasionally be to where the line is.

“WOULD YOU STOP TEASING ME!” I cried as I stormed back to the car and threw open the door.

“We have to be there in ten minutes!” she shrieked. “Run in there, change your shirt, and get back out here! It’s not hard!”

I didn’t bother to answer her; I was too mad. I ran in, banged the door hard behind me, ran upstairs and changed into my ‘Island Girl’ shirt, and ran back. So I don’t like to unnecessarily stress myself out by running around like a maniac too much. Sue me.

When I got back to the living room, Kristi was gone, and I could hear her outside. She must have been worried from my door slamming (all the way up to my room from the car, matter of fact). Slowing down, I walked back out.

I was right. There she was talking with mum with the door opened. Soon, they finished talking and mum said, “Get in,” calmer now.

I remained mostly silent while she just complained and questioned all the way there. In the parking lot then, she asked if I was okay now. Yeah, I was great, I thought angrily.

After a moment, she encouraged me enough to make a sarcastic grin at her… which soon turned into a genuine laugh. Thinking I was fine, she continued to talk about it, which made me feel worse about it, but I was quickly coming out of it.

She made me hug her and make up, and I did. I was better by the time we walked to the gym, headed towards our appointed tour (as that was what it turned out to be, in the end).

Author: littlewonder2

I'm 25, and I blog to improve my writing; I want to be good enough to be published. I also studied Japanese when I was younger. Luckily, I'll be able to continue those studies along with Creative Writing next year in University.

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