When I feel lonely and depressed and useless and stupid and everything and when I find my days rotting in nothingness, I blame it on PMS. Yesterday when I shouted at my dad because he complained that I didn’t call him for a month when he in fact asked me to call him everyday. I blamed it on PMS. When I accused my friends calling them “hopeless” and “ungentlemen” and screwed up their lovely evening because they didn’t offer to give me a lift. I blamed it again on PMS. When my dearest friend stayed the night at my place and I ranted about the annoying auto drivers, bad birthday gifts, rude smses, the heat, my weight and the nosy -noisy watchman. She patiently listened and consoled me saying “it’s just PMS”.
I fought with my loved one for no apparent reason. Hurting him again and again and again. I warned him about my “upcoming mood swings” but then how long can he understand and bear my wickedness. Today he walked out of my house, of my life.
Perhaps it’s not just PMS; it’s the person that I’m. Unforgiving. Selfish and an Avenger at its best.
