- 17 -
Next morning when I woke up, it was still dark outside. I looked at my phone: 5:05 a.m. My body was sore, as if I had climbed a hill five times the night before. The sound of my own breathing hurt my head. I tied my hair into a knot and quietly went into the bathroom.
Looking at my face in the mirror, I noticed my eyes were swollen. “Crying doesn’t look good on you, beta,” Mumma would always tell me and wipe my tears with her hands. How I wish she had let me fight my battles and wipe my own tears instead of turning me into an overprotected, oversheltered weakling who felt clueless at every difficult juncture in life.
I brushed my teeth and tried to relax my entire body as I sat on the toilet. Thinking about my meltdown at the club, I felt embarrassed. I looked at the clock: 5:20
