This is related to a previous post.
Last night, my mom was borrowing my pair of scissors. I didn't know where mine was so I told her to look for it in my room. And she did. Nope, she didn't find the scissors. She found a knife.
"Bakit ka may kutsilyo sa kwarto mo?!", she asked. She was frightened, I sensed.
Epal much. I've had that knife in my room since early June. I used to it to force open my drawer that failed me. I have the keys to the drawer but it won't open. The knife's been in my side drawer for weeks and it's only now that she saw it. Weird.
Early this morning, my mom brought breakfast to my room. I didn't eat it for the nth time.
"Why didn't you eat? May problema ka ba?", asked my dad.
The hell. Why are they all insisting that i have problems. God. For more than 8 years now, I do not eat breakfast. My stomach doesn't take it well. I can't believe my parents don't remember it. Bwisit.
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