i reach home at 9.15pm, after a bloody hectic 12-hour workday of project meetings, last-minute orders, sourcing for quotations, chasing for documents, visa applications, packing bolts/nuts, and a whole load of other shit that i don’t have time to do.
feet hurting, gastric hurting, head throbbing, muscle aching, mood pissed. and i still have to cook my own pathetic plain maggi mee dinner. i just want to sit down and rest while my food goes down. yet all i get is you screaming for me to bathe? does it even concern you? i’m not asking for your understanding. i just want you to fucking leave me alone.
maybe coming home was a bad idea.