Last night, I came home to a dark house with no food on the table.
She was in the room dressing up for dinner and told me to wait. I waited. She came out smiling like she won Miss Universe. I obligingly smiled back, gave a few words of polite compliments on her dress and then I frowned. Too much makeup. She knows I don't like it.
She sulked. My heart sank.
"I'll prepare dinner," she said.
I closed the room door and buried my head in my hands. Breathe. Smile.
My favourite dish didn't taste as good. She agreed.
"Do you want to come with me and send some dinner to my Mum?" she asked me for the third time.
I declined once again. I accused her of guilt-tripping me. I was tired and I had school work to finish up.
She muttered words under her breath, possibly trying to calm herself down and not unleash hell's fury on me. She packed her Mum's share and left the house after saying goodbye.
Sorry it didn't turn out the way you want - she whatsapped me.
I sent her an insanely long reply full of accusations and hurling the usual "you don't care", "you never listen" and "leave me alone" speech and my heart hit the bottom of the darkest ocean and died.
I woke up this morning, remembered to still be dead and went along lifelessly getting ready for work.
I saw her pack tampons into my bag. I wanted to laugh but I didn't. She was right. Smart girl.
Today I had a bowl of green salad, a celery+apple fruit juice, some cut oranges and a heavy heart for lunch.
CONFIRM PMS.
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