Titleless.

I just attempted to satisfy my hunger by making a plate of fried rice.

I failed. The kitchen bin has steam coming out of it. I hope no-one notices. It really tasted quite foul. I'm sitting on the floor typing this out on my laptop, eating tuna out of a can and drinking fat-free milk. Yes, fat-free.

Clearly my life is in the pits.

Everyone in my family is so emotionally charged, my mum is mood swinging like CRAZY (I think she's going through menopause or something) screaming her head off, bursting into tears at really small things, staying in her room for days on end and then acting like nothing happened, and I gotta pick up the pieces since everyone else is really quite oblivious in their own little selfish worlds.

Or maybe I'm just too aware.

I tried not caring a few times. It didn't work. I ended up cleaning up the house, as usual. I just can't stand a dirty place. So now I'm the slave. Yay. Maybe I actually don't contribute at all and nothing would happen if I died and everything would stay exactly the same.

*My Mind is Blank*.

I'm really hungry. My mum doesn't cook on a regular basis anymore. I'm really hungry. I really really want to move out. I considered moving to Uni and living on campus, but now I don't want to do that anymore. I really don't like uni. I'm not sure exactly why. Maybe my degree is not for me, the people, I don't know.

I just hate going these days.

This tuna is actually not so bad.