I am so frustrated that I can't stop my tears from falling. I called Mom and started all of my rants about how much I hate this day, not minding the loudness of my voice, whether every people in this city can hear what I'm talking about, I don't care. I just want to pour it out. I'm frustrated. I want to shout!
I want to shout so bad!
I'm so concentrated in telling her everything that made me sound like a kid whinning over an ice-cream. She's just listening patiently, probably waiting til I feel a little bit better like what she always do.
I swear I've never felt so humiliated in my whole life! I'm always carrying the ideal lady-like poise, and everyone sees me as something very mature and doesn't make any hasty decisions. Other moms even sets me as an example for their growing children, telling them to handle things wisely, and not cry over such small things.
The image of me being the ideal woman is just a facade. Because here I am, crying over the phone, telling my mom how bad I felt after finding out that I walk around the city with my pants unzipped.
