When I open my still-hurting eyes, I find myself lying on Mom's hospital bed. She's seated by me, a magazine in her hands. She casually flips pages until she notices me yawning. "It's breezy all day long," she says.I sit straight and then look at her but still lost in thoughts. "Yeah. Good morning," I say before getting off the bed. I sit down on a stool and then smell a strong aroma — coffee. I turn my head around and eventually see the trail of smoke, leading my eyes to two cups of coffee on the table."Take one, sweetheart," Mom orders.I obey. It's coffee. Everything caffeinated is life nowadays. As warmth goes down my freezing insides, satisfaction is what I feel. Coffee really makes me pleased."Good, isn't it?" Mom queries.I nod in agreement. It's coffee, so it has to be good."Just give me the signal if you're comfortable already to talk about it, the reason that made you sob last night," she says, reaching for her cup."How did I get onto your bed?" I change the topic unint

It's already lunch. I’m sitting alone at a table, eating whatever it is on my tray. I really didn't pick these. Reign did. I was rechecking our team output for Chemistry in the classroom so I told her ‘Just grab me whatever you think I’d like,’ and she didn't fail. She's currently sitting with her girlfriends. She invites me to join them, but I tell her I need to review for Math while filling in my stomach. I hope she knows I’m not as brainy in Math as she naturally is.Anyway, in the following minutes, all I’ve done is sigh and yawn in front of the Trigonometry section of the textbook. It feels like nothing is coming into my mind but void and void. The topic isn't that difficult to grasp. I’m just the problem. I kind of lack appropriate motive to face a book and write essays since Lester dropped me off. His words have been reverberating in my mind, and I can't find a way how to block them. I'm aware that it totally is unhealthy, but overthinking is enveloping every corner of my brain

When I open my still-hurting eyes, I find myself lying on Mom's hospital bed. She's seated by me, a magazine in her hands. She casually flips pages until she notices me yawning. "It's breezy all day long," she says.I sit straight and then look at her but still lost in thoughts. "Yeah. Good morning," I say before getting off the bed. I sit down on a stool and then smell a strong aroma — coffee. I turn my head around and eventually see the trail of smoke, leading my eyes to two cups of coffee on the table."Take one, sweetheart," Mom orders.I obey. It's coffee. Everything caffeinated is life nowadays. As warmth goes down my freezing insides, satisfaction is what I feel. Coffee really makes me pleased."Good, isn't it?" Mom queries.I nod in agreement. It's coffee, so it has to be good."Just give me the signal if you're comfortable already to talk about it, the reason that made you sob last night," she says, reaching for her cup."How did I get onto your bed?" I change the topic unint