the worse mothers' day ever.

crowded, stinky, parents breathing down your neck, trying to study, and, that fake plastic smile has to be plastered on your face, cause, you don't want anyone to worry bout you. yeah.

Dad’s going to start late-night riding again. He just collected his bike from his friend’s place. He will be riding with his friends in the dead of night. Little over a month since his accident where he suffered a fracture in his left arm, and, dumb as he could be, he was trying to “save” his ducati. Well, whatever, yes? I will see him much lesser now, since he won’t be home that much. Yay me. Right?

Well, I know why I don’t tell me parents anything, cause the trust is not there anymore. Well, my mother does not believe me, thus is on my case 24/7. I had the worse mothers’ day celebration ever today. My sarcastic mother was tormenting me to the extent that I started crying, at my aunt’s house no less, in a cold, smoky (thanks to my mother, who has been deemed -by me, as a full-on smoker now) peach-colored bathroom. I never been so hurt in my entire life, I think. But, ya know, I can live through this. I know I can. I will. Yes?

I have been thinking. Together, my parents, they smoke bout 2.5 packs of cigarettes a week. Counting, about 13 bucks a pop, one week, they spend bout $32.50 a week. In a month, that’s about $130, and in a year, that’s $1560. I guess, that’s a lot of money. Imagine, if they stopped smoking, with all that extra cash, what other better ways could they spend that money on. [e.g. me! ((:] so, yeah. I wish they could just quit. Yeah, we all can be wishful thinkers.

loves,

manda.