Dim sum. Flights. Clothes. Fresh fruits…kitchen tools. Money was, after all, something my parents didn’t have much of growing up.
Last night, I couldn’t sleep.
I tried to, but no matter how many freaking sheeps I counted or how slow I tried to breathe, I couldn’t get myself to fall asleep. The Hong Kong milk tea I had drank earlier (which surprisingly has the same amount of caffeine as a cup of coffee does) that evening was a lot stronger than I had anticipated.
So what did I do?
“Brush teeth. Go to work. Come home. Eat dinner. Sleep.
Brush teeth. Go to work. Come home. Eat dinner. Sleep.”These were the words of someone mumbling under his breath as he brushed his teeth in front of the mirror — a mantra he has recited over the years to keep himself sane.
Hearing those words stung. It hurt, like needle sharp pains stabbing at your soul. It made me want to cry. My ex-boyfriend had yelled at me because I had forgotten to check the expiration date for the milk. I was