Hop-On Hop-Off

Vier.

I discarded another mail to trash option that I received from the last publishing house I emailed my samples to in resignation and disappointment once again. This was how it went every damn time; I found a publishing company, sent them samples along with other necessary details and waited.

Waited hopingly which always resulted in crumbling and tearing down of said hope.

Yet I always thought maybe this was that one moment I had been waiting for since forever and my book would finally be selected and I'd finally, finally, be able to pursue my dreams of becoming a well-known published author. Fucking delusions, the logical part of my brain always provided but I chose to stay in denial instead. 

Or chose to lean on the optimistic side. It didn't matter anyway, I'd always struggle if the past couple of years were any indication. 

But maybe all I needed was a better project to work on, right? Maybe if I had a better draft to forward, a better book with better plot and characters, better language and everything just better than before, maybe then I'd finally be validated for my work and struggles. 

Why can't I ever be enough?

When in need of a reply, my inner conscience always chose to stay silent. Stupid biased bitch.

 I had just left the couch to make some latte when my phone rang abruptly. I jolted a little at the ringtone, surprised to find someone calling me late in the evening.

Unless something happened to Bob...

My legs were in action before my mind could even complete the dreadful thought. I picked up my mobile, relief coursing through my body momentarily to find Mom flashing on the screen before I stiffened again.

"Hallo?" Hello?

"Doro, meine süße tochter, wie geht es dir? Isst du jeden Tag richtig? Und wie ist-"

Doro, my sweet daughter, how are you? Are you eating properly everyday? And how is-

My abrupt laugh cut her explicit concern and quite adorable rambling off mid sentence,"Mutti, I'm doing fine these days. And I'm eating everyday, don't worry. How're you? Is Austria missing me enough?"

As my mom went into details about the everyday shenanigans she has to deal with in the Zelda household, my brain spiraled into nostalgia about Innsbruck, my home-town. Memories long faded sprouted like seasonal flowers, exploring the age old forgotten yet safe sounding land that was my brain. 

God, I sounded like a depressed seventy-year-old woman with amnesia or something. 

A sigh full of melancholia tinged with rueful thoughts escaped me as I continued to listen mom ramble.

I won't lie, I sometimes missed the life I used to have before...everything. I missed that life even more so when I let my overthinking consume me and ended up having a panic attack. I missed how stress free my life was before, missed the people whom I had- at least the perception of them I had -around me, missed how I lived in a shell where I hadn't ever heard of anxiety or mental health let alone experienced them all. 

But like some shells, mine had to break. 

"Enough about me, Liebling," Love, "Your dad misses you so much and is anticipating the good news any day. How long is it going to take, Doro?"

The hint of yearning in my mom's voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. She had caught me off-guard with her last comment as I searched for a satisfying answer, "I'm almost there, mom. I can feel it."

Her sigh on the other end reached my very soul, cracking something in it when her honeyed voice replied in a small murmur, "We know you can do it, baby. But we can't help but worry for you at times and think it'd have been better if you were-"

"Mom, stop. Please."

Maybe she heard the slight waver in my voice because instead of finishing her previous sentence, she chose to change the topic before we bid our goodbyes and finally hung up. 

But I did not get up to make my coffee like I planned to before the unsolicited call, instead gazed up at the white ceiling not caring whether it was almost time to prepare for dinner.

Or the fact a single tear was slowly gliding across my cheek.

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I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser

Midnights become our afternoons 

Anti-Hero blasted through my right earphone as I bobbed my head in rhythm to its melody. My fingers aimlessly grazed the various cups of ramen before they found the familiar plastic material of the brand I liked. 

After I was done wallowing in self-pity on my worn out couch, my senses finally kicked into realisation that I had forgotten to buy groceries last Sunday and was totally depended on caffeine and air for the week ahead if I didn't do something about it. Scared at the thought of being found dead due to starvation, I rushed to the nearest grocery store as soon as possible given it was five in the evening already.

The chorus of the song came up just when my cart was filled with all the necessities I required. I casted a quick glance around me and observed how deserted the aisles were before delightment coursed through my body in the form of a smirk at the opportunity handed to me on silver plate. 

I pushed my cart forward, my sneakers tapping on the tiled floor in contrast to the song flowing in my ears. "It's me; Hi! I'm the problem, it's me!" 

I clicked my fingers as I moved my arms like a tidal wave before closing my eyes for a second and ending up the motion with a twist.

"Motherfucker!"

A gasp tore free from me at the sound of an amicable voice as I turned around at the speed of lightening only to see my cart had slid forward unbeknownst to me. 

And crashed right into an employee of the store. 

But the shock didn't end there because when my alarmed gaze met the way too familiar set of hazel eyes, all thoughts of concern became tainted with utter mortification on my behalf.

Mother earth, I beg you to swallow me again.

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ugh half yearly finally came to an end and im ready to drop dead 

sorry for the late update btwww

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