Much ado about.... nothing, perhaps.

I act like a 7-year-old. Even 7-year-olds are more sensible these days. And me, I like standing at least a mile away from sensibility and the likes. W-h-e-n will I grow up, if ever?

On the other hand, I tend to think at times that I am a little too mature than people my age. I am a little profound than usual. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

I was stingy a few days ago. Probably just because I was not well. You know, the thing with me is that I don't get ill very often. Alhamdolillah. And even when I do fall ill, I don't make a fuss out of it. And luckily, I get better in a few days somehow. So, no one really comes to know how bad my condition was. So, when others get sick, I don't feel for them. Say, my sisters, I don't like it much when my mother tends to them when they fall ill. I feel neglected. (Absurd, I know- can't help it). Told you, I act very childish sometimes. Sighs.

You know, at times when I get slightly feverish and my mother asks me to take the meds; I say yes to her and whisper under my breath, 'no way'. Eik tou itni mushkil se aya hai bukhar, itni asani se kaise jane dedon? *smiles*  I dislike doctors (apologies sid) and abhor pills. Hence, the reluctance to take pills. The last time I took antibiotics was..... err... sorry, cannot remember (so you see majworld, it wasn't the 'antibiotic-effect'). 

So, a few days back I caught cold and  had a really bad throat. The runny nose made me go all the way beyond crazy and then my throat ached so bloody much that I found it hard to even swallow water. Yes. And, Z. thought it was funny. Huh. Yes, very funny indeed. *scowls* And then, I have asthma. Although, it remains dormant the whole year round but jumps out when I fall ill. Asthma is awful with a capital 'A'. So, I secretly hoped that my illness won't go further and turn into an asthma attack and treated myself with anti-allergies only. Despite the fact, that my mother asked me to take some pills and an inhaler that the doctor had prescribed. *smiles* Disobedient, are we? *winks*

Yeah so, I fell ill and just when I started to imagine about all the care and tendering that I'll be receiving everybody else in the house decided to fall ill. Arghhhh. This is what happens- always. There was no one to care for me because everybody was sick. Achi musibat hai. Jab S. ya ZB. beemar hotey hain tou Aunta tak ko khabar mil jati hai, aur jab mein beemar hon tou meri ama tak bekhabar hoti hain. Kion? Kion ke mujhey dramay karne ka shoq nahin. Huh. (Waysay tou mujhse zyada dramay karne wala koi paida nahi hua magar I don't know where do all my dramatic skills go when I'm sick).

Now about the last post. I felt vulnerable. I felt like the little old Ann as a kid who used to cry, when hurt, and repeat the same things over and over. 'Nobody loves me, nobody'. 'Please Allah saa'in I want to die, everybody shall be better off that way'. 'I'm sorry Allah saa'in, but please can I die earlier'. I don't know. Whom did I wish to ease by dying? Others? Or, myself? Both, I assume. *faint smile*

A comment made my eyes well up for some reason. No clue, why? And then after all, it was by a complete stranger. Then, why did it matter at all? (See, I'm that absurd). But all I know is, nobody misses nobody! That is what I've kept repeating to myself since childhood. Not until forever, at least.

And about love, you ask. *smiles* Death shall put an end to every thing. Sooner or later. It certainly shall.

I'm sorry. Tsk.

(It's ironic- my denial. *smiles* And, I'm a liar.)