My mother went home immediately after going to my grandma's house, instead of going house visiting as usual. I had always taken for granted that my parents would both live till their seventies, at least, but nowadays when I look at her I wonder how long more she has to live. Pain wears a person down day by day, night by night. We had a discussion about children today, and as usual, she said she would like us to have children and she would be happy to take care of them for us. And I thought then, can you really? The sensation of my heart being squeezed is becoming all too familiar.

I hate the feeling of helplessness. Other than doing housework and massaging her head for an hour at a time every night, there's nothing much my sister and I can do. I get impatient with people whining about their lives sometimes, because we all have our own problems and yours seem quite mundane. But I suppose that makes me a hypocrite, because I hate it too when others belittle my experiences as nothing comparable to the great disasters that besiege families day to day.

Anyway, to happier matters. I ate and ate and ate today, which I believe would come as no great surprise to many people. Fortunately or unfortunately, my skirt was just the right size for me, so it started to get rather tight and uncomfortable after some time. It prevented me from consuming more than I did just now, which was quite a significant amount. I also drank a lot of "chicken wine", which was very thick and very nice. I realised that I'll probably be a quiet drunk if I ever have the occasion to be one. Instead of getting high and laughing a lot like some of my friends, I suspect that I will just go happily to sleep. Not a bad thing, really.