Teddies don't hug back, but sometimes they are all you have.

I felt like a live wire all day. In a bad way.

I doubt I am having PMS. Or maybe I am but it ain’t Pre-Menstrual Syndrome. It is probably Post Menstrual Syndrome. If that exists, that is.

I was so frustrated today. I still am.

I was frustrated at not being able to wake up earlier to follow mom to school, even if I knew I was sleep-deprived and needed that extra hour of snooze desperately.

I was frustrated at having to wait for a ludicrously long time before my check-up, even if I had my laptop, an internet connection and a thumbdrive full of my favourite tunes with me.

I was frustrated at the doctor for not finding a solution on how to treat the wound, for being inconclusive, for dismissing the tiny tear in the old scar as a SUPERFICIAL SKIN PROBLEM, even if I heard the very same line almost a year ago and half-expected him to recite it over again.

I was frustrated at mom for droning on and on about a topic till I nearly snapped at her, even if her nagging meant that my head was in the clouds never really bothered me and I would normally use it as a lesson to be patient.

I was frustrated that Modern Band Ensemble ended more than 20 minutes late, even if it would not have made a difference since I had to stay back for piano classes at 5pm anyway.

I was frustrated at not seeing my playing improved after banging on the keys for an hour and a half, even if I was acutely aware of my weariness and lack of mood.

God, help me.

I need a new book.

And an alternate, virtual world to lose myself in.

And now, right from the centre of the bubbling mass of frustration, for some inexplicable, rootless reason, I am resenting those who have, or had a taste of, a happy ending. I want mine.

“Silly gal…love doesn’t exist in reality, only in fairy tales. People are interested in another because of reliability.”

(Do not bother to ask who made the statement)

I had no idea how to counterclaim that. Words mercilessly failed me.

But I feel calmer now.