All the worms in the head

I am extremely restless today.

Not sure if it is because of my foot or my head.

As I type now, I am still nursing a strained arch. It does hurt, but I can still walk. When the pain gets too intense, I limp.

It turned out that my two feet were and are anatomically different, and that difference had resulted in my strained arch. Well, indirectly.

It is a chain reaction.

I remember walking out of the physiotherapist’s room thinking about “Why?” Not that I am a professional dancer or sports player or anything, but because of the disturbances it was creating in my life.

That I can only hobble. That I had to limp. That I can’t do much exercise.

Having said that though, now, I am glad.

Well, at least it wasn’t a broken leg or something. Or a fractured toe bone.

…

My mum was throwing tantrums last night.

I would have imagined that I didn’t cause it—but the fact that she threw the spoon into the sink in my presence and was wracking things in my presence leaves me unconvinced.

And don’t ask me what I did. I didn’t do anything.

The only thing I did was returning home!

I returned home with a heavy heart (if you remember, we hadn’t been talking much since sat when she insisted I am an idiot and I was stupid). Heavy heart because, I really didn’t feel like going home.

But too bad! There was nowhere I could go.

And so, as I whisked to quickly prepare my food (dinner was not ready), I thought about what I said to R.

I had told him that, if it were an exchange—that I trade a prepared dinner with nonsense—then I can take it. There was no reason to move out.

But what if that doesn’t hold anymore?

I found myself toying with the thought again.

My mum didn't even dry the laundry. My dad had to do it.

And I wouldn't do so agitated if my dad were retired. But he isn't.

And while I feel sorry for him (I offered to help him dry the laundry; he was sarcastic to me), there is nothing I can do.

There are many problems I would very much like to solve...but I can't, simply because they are not my businesses.

Never mind if I can analyse the problem. Never mind if I (think I) know where the problem may be.

It is not my business. Or so my parents would like to claim.

For a long time, I hadn't cried. But last night, I did.

I couldn't help not feeling sorry for myself. Shame on me, I know. We should never feel sorry for ourselves. There are always others in a worse plight.

I know that.

But I really cannot help it.

And I cannot help feeling dismayed that my mum is reverting to her nonsense.

And I cannot help feeling disappointed that no matter how much I give in and how hard I try, that the efforts are just fruitless.

And I cannot help thinking that I don't have the power to stop the chain reaction. This whole sequence of events that can be traced from the birth of my parents.

And I cannot help wondering if I can ever get out of this paradigm; if not, when I will succumb to this whole crazy nonsense.

When it will get into my head.

And crash me rotten.