Is growing old at a young age a bad thing?
Lately I feel contented to stay at home just lazing around or staring at my computer. Perhaps its the comfort of my room, or the weariness that I accumulated over the weekdays, or the fact that when I got home I just have this list of things to do in order to ensure that my home is prim and proper.
Maybe that’s why I feel so tired, mentally and physically, that easily. And that a simple thing like slacking at home would suffice.
I’m trying to do things that benefit my family more nowadays. But I know I can’t just push aside my personal needs and social networks.
Forgive me for I ain’t no juggler whom at 21 years of age knows how to prioritize between family, friends and self. For I am merely this human being who acts based on emotions and make decisions with whatever intelligence I may have.
It doesn’t help that I have the tendency to bottle things up, just because I don’t wanna trouble anybody or make them worry.
I don’t know who sees this similarity but I am exactly a carbon copy of who my mum used to be. Right till she’s gone, she never told anyone what exactly brought her back down to Earth. And it’s that strong her willpower is in her attempt not to make her loved ones worry about her even more.
Things aren’t exactly heavenly at home. It doesn’t help that I come back once a week. Perhaps it does, else I can’t even tolerate whatever nonsense that may be ongoing while I’m away. Dad isn’t really helping with his role as a Dad except to go to work and earn his salary. Sis is growing up and Dad isn’t a tad worried which path of life she’ll take.
So I’m handling my family relationships, settling bills and letters, looking over Sis’s growth, tolerating Dad’s eccentricity and I really have little time for myself. And I’m tired. Tired of this routine. A routine that everybody takes me for granted.
Just like how we all took Mum for granted.
