suitcase skeletons

its funny how my parents ( especially my ma ) puts the fear of God in me when it comes to my future ( well about a year's time ) degree education. The whole, No Scholarship, No Going Abroad. I worry, for the life of me, I do. I cry, and worry and worry.

Then I'll call my ma, confide in her, trying my best to push back the flow of ocular moistness and she'll solve everything. Make everything have more sense, more clarity. It'll lift off that heavy grey cloud hovering over me.

"if you say you cant, you wont. Simple as that", she reminds.


I can. I can. I can and I will.

But then reality hits, like difficult exams papers, the possibility of lecturers giving you a bad forecast result. The cloud resumes its position.

"if its not meant for you, then its not", she adds


I cant accept that. this HAS to be meant for me. that I am born for this. that this is the little box I tick off on my Things I Did In My Life list.


"worrying is like a rocking chair. it gives you something to do, and gets you no where"
"okay mummy"


damn it I need to meditate.