blind to light.

Scrub.

Scrub.

I throw everything down the sink and wash in fury. I see my younger sister walk in and find my self hiding my face. That is when I discover I'm crying. Just so you know, this just happened down stairs, like fifteen minutes ago. I cried buckets in the kitchen before stumping upstairs and picking up my laptop. Yes. The first thing I thought of, was to write it in my blog. No judging. In the entire world, the friends I have can be counted in one hand. and the once I talk to every few months (note the EVERY FEW MONTHS), could be counted on that same hand, with fingers to spare. So, here is what happened.

A few weeks back, I ran down stairs to my mother in the kitchen. and I talked about cake delivery. When baking is called to question, I'm usually the master of the craft in the family. My mum went; "sure go ahead and tell me what you need."

See, I need a lot of money to sponsor my writing career and my psychological advocacy hobbies. So, why don't I earn some? Just so we are clear, the oven and the fridge have been spoilt for years. Repairing or buying a new one means, a cut in all those private university fees and my brother's tuition fees abroad. Why? That is a story for another day.

So yesterday, I made my first batch. Total fail. You see, the sizes were not right and so, they were returned. Today, I went with normal cup cakes. how can I get that wrong? baking without an oven is pretty much easy. (just check you tube for details.) So, I make the batches, till the last. Just when I was about to package, I decide to taste my work. Yes. It was tasty.

Wait.

What is that?

Sand? I could feel all my money go down the drain. I can't deliver sandy cakes. I told the girl helping me deliver that she can return next week. I am composed as I tell her. I hear our tenant say; "What's wrong." I just tell her; "sand." You see, I did not check the lid of the pot, and every time I closed it, sand was sprinkled on the cake like sugar.

So, back to the crying. I was not sure why I was crying till my sister asked; "why are you crying? Its just a set back. You'll come back up."
I feel a retort rise my throat; " How will you understand? You have never tasted failure." Sure, I know, she has been smooth sailing since birth, but I didn't have to say that. She was trying to console me. So, I swallowed the words back. It tasted like a thorn in my stomach.

Apart from being the only one not going in the same direction as every one else in my house, its been months since I dropped out of school. I'm still sitting docks. Yes, I fail a lot and I should be used to it by now, but no one can accept such a reality. I finally realize how much it hurts me. Even though I throw anger around each time, I finally know that I'm hurt and I'm not ashamed to say it.

With my dreams and goals, it is truth that, I will have to pull my self. My siblings have my parents to pull them, but I must both push my self, and pull too. usually every time I take one step up, I fall five steps down and I hear my self say; "I wonder why I even tried." But this time, I found my self crying. Reality is, I am actually hurt. My fingers fly over the keyboards and pause.

"How long will I have to try? Is it too much to say that I'm tired? I just want to stop?"