Rambles of a Drama Queen

… or I say, less drama for me since yesterday. Except for the constant throbbing on the left side of my skull, which got me worried coz I was thinking brain cancer or worst, migraine, but was cured almost in an instant by a mug of coffee. Had moon flow cramps since Friday night, which is unusual coz these cramps only happen during the first day and with a good amount of chocolate bars, they will be gone. But on the third day? And for 2 consecutive days too? It made me stay in bed 90 percent of the time, which I am not complaining though coz I got my books, iPod, phone, pens and notebooks within an arm’s reach. Yeah, my bed practically looks like a giant desk, and I kinda like it that way.

Now that I have written about it, I realised that life without the drama is dun dun dun. Bo-oh-ring. But not really for me now, coz I have been reading like a maniac, and I have memorised my Katakana characters (whooopie!), so you can say, mentally I am stimulated, hah!

Fought with my brother the other night. Verbally. Or should I say, we growled more than exchanging words. Which is fun coz growling taps the inner animal in me. Sounds sexy too. Cause? He was talking back to mama in a way that made my ears ring. So I growled at him, he growled back. I growled louder, he did the same too. I screamed at him, he whimpered. Ha! Good thing I am the eldest, that was the only thing prolly holding him back from boxing me. But if he’s going to hit me, I’ll introduce his face to the wall in a rough manner. I can do that. Yes, without the guilt.

It’s not that I am brutal or without conscience or what. I just have low bullshit tolerance at times. Like the time when my bro punched our glass window when I just simply told him to lower down his voice when answering me. I guess puberty and PMS-y should not live in the same house. Anyway, the window broke, bro got blood dripping down his knuckles and he was screaming like an idiot that he was since he was scared of blood. He ran to my mama and my mama would not look at his wounds, much more tend to it coz she herself is scared of blood too. So he laid on the bed, holding his bleeding knuckle, screaming. My mama told me to look at his hand, and I said, “No. He knew what he did when he punched the window. He knew the consequences, but still did it. Even if he bleeds to death, I won’t tend his wounds. He’s being stupid.” I tossed him the antiseptic and a roll of gauze and told him, “What were you trying to prove? Be man enough to lick your own wounds.” Gawd, I was so pissed with him then.

Now, I feel like an evil sister.

These siblings of mine should know better than to piss me off and set my patience meter out of limits. I am nice and good and very patient with them, but step out of the line, and I can be a total idiot too. When my sister was pregnant with Summer, she was impossible. Like totally impossible and she nagged a lot. I forgot what she did to me that time that made my blood shoot up, but I found myself grabbing her hair, hitting her arms, kicking her. She was 6 months pregnant. See? I can be an idiot.

Going back to my reading now.

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