She Thinks

She thinks that good, revolutionary changes are vitally essential.

She thinks that it is most immature for a person to harbour negative feelings towards another person just because of an academic misunderstanding.

She thinks that it is bad enough for an overweening rogue to think that every girl has the hots for him and is dying and drooling all over at his feet.

She personally hates a particular person because that earthling is everything an overweening rogue is.

Now, she knows that none can compare to a single soul saying:

"So, what do you think?? Is it not well done??"

That has just topped her list. [No hard feelings]

She thinks that her mother is furious with her because she has failed to wish her mother "Happy Birthday".

She thinks that her father will be waiting patiently for her at the Taylor's Business School to pick her home.

Her mom thinks that she only walked through a little rain just to get her two lil cakes for her birthday.

Or so she thinks.

She, has to walk through violent winds, thunderstorm, sprays of rain and puddles of water just to get two pathetic pieces of cake for her mother's birthday.

Her skirt is entirely soaked and she is practically having a mini skating-ring in her sandals. Water and leather-surfaced sandals are the worst combination for walking.

Her arms are wet. Her hair is madly tousled and wet from the sprays of rain caused by the unforgiving howling wind.

She thinks that she can fight against the wind; only to have the wind blow off her umbrella, leaving her temporarily "naked" under the sheets of rain; wetting her books, her file, her head, and the flowers made of paper by her helpful friend, Othilia.

She is in a desperate state.

Despite of the chill from the wind, she is sweating from the walkathon she is doing; from Starbucks to TBS to Secret Recipe and back to TBS.

She gets into the car only to be nagged by her father that she should get into the car by 5.30pm to avoid traffic jams.

She thinks that her father will help chip-in for all the stuff that she has bought for her mother.

Nope. It is all an illusional dream which will never materialise... not even in the thinnest of veil of mist.

She thinks that the suggestion of making a hand-made card by her friends is ingenius.

She thinks that her card is hideous. She thinks that she is making rushed-work a habit.

She thinks that she can finish her birthday card for her mother in 30 minutes. She is taking longer than she should.

She thinks that her mother is not going to be very happy this year.

She finds her mother giggling hysterically at the sight of the simple card.

She thinks that her spelling is very good. But she finds typing this post quite a challenge because her little, slightly heated-up forehead is all mixed up from the effing Chaucer's spelling.

She thinks that she might come up with a fever tomorrow. But her immune system is signalling positive signs that she will be as healthy as a cow.

That's right. She thinks. She ONLY thinks.

Not everything will go in the way that she thinks.

Get realistic.

But that does not mean that what she thinks is entirely negligible and is exclusively a pure, classic rubbish.