I woke up late the next day feeling extremely tired, highly usual. Normally I always wake up early and never get to feel like I have been hit by a truck.

    My alarm clock is something I have used last month ago. Since I have been a kid, I have developed the act of sleeping late and waking up on time. It started as I have always been scared to close my eyes, I didn't want to see those strange colors of eyes. The same eyes that look like mine but scarier than the endless pool on earth.

   As usual, I took my pill regardless of the time difference. Four years ago every morning, I always wake up to take my Pills first thing in the morning. It had been helpful because I took it as the normal routine I pass through every day that has helped me take my drugs without thinking I am on them.

   My parents know how I hate to swallow pills so they make me believe I have to swallow peas instead. I did it up to the point that the pills taste like peas while the peas taste like pills. Most times I feel my every day is been trapped in an electronic video game, like every part of my life is been planned ahead of me without my consent.

    I know how my day would be, like literally everything to do today is been planned by my parents and my brother, Jeremy. Jeremy had always been the safe sibling while they call me the troubled child. There is not a single day that I won't get into one.

    It's either someone is looking for my trouble or I am in someone's trouble, there is always one.

    "Good morning, Pa" I greet my Dad as I walk past him making breakfast.

   Dad has always been the one making breakfast while Mom does what they call supervision. We don't get to eat lunch as a family so we take anything from the fridge later on. Dinner is always made by Jeremy and as I said before, Mom no longer cooks.

  I know you are wondering what I do, yeah! I get it but I am not as relevant as many other kids should be. I am not like Jeremy who does two jobs, pays for rent and tax, maintains the house and Dad's truck, goes shopping for groceries every week, and still takes care of Sophia his annoying skinny girlfriend.

   Mom is not always home, she spends most time in the hospital taking care of babies and her diabetes. Before Mom decided to face the kids at the hospital, we had a vegetable store that she cherished. She never lets anyone close except Dad, so long story short, Dad now manages the store.

    Time to talk about what I do!

I work at the restaurant to save up for college but each month, I get nothing to save. It's either I use them to solve urgent bills Jeremy won't be able to pay or they go down my stomach through ice cream and cheese.

   With the smell of things, I think Dad is making the most horrible meal for breakfast, he is making spaghetti and whatever sauce that smells like food. It has been our family favorite meal since I knew myself but I don't still know why I can't grow to love it.

   "Set the table, Miranda" Dad loves calling me by my full name "Don't just stare at me from under that cup.

    I know what I am doing is totally wrong but who says drinking water and using the cup to stare at your Dad prepare breakfast is the wrong thing!

   Without any word, I began to set the table. I know Mum would soon be down the same as Jeremy so I included their plates whenever I am asked to set the table I refuse to add mine and that is what I did. The look on Dad's face make me think he wants to slap my face with the filter but at the same time would laugh and throw the pot at me.

    "I just remember" He almost yelled, "You don't get to eat with plates" he places the bowl of spaghetti and sauce in the middle of the table "You get to eat with your palm widely placed on the table" he added with both hands on his wide waist.

    I rolled my eyes before setting my plate and sitting down. I just don't know why they can't understand how I hate spaghetti even when they talk so highly of it, even Sophia. My eyes went wide open as I remembered that she would be around today, it's Wednesday, and it's her off in the beauty salon she works.

   "Morning Mom" I tapped her shoulder as she walked to take a seat.

   I muttered more to myself than complain when I got back up to get her plate. Still, with all the preparation, Jeremy is not yet out of his room, even Mum that stays longer in the shower is down and he is not! I hate to complain but I know what would come next and I honestly hate it, I can't go upstairs to call my brother because I hate climbing the stairs.

   I am not fat and I keep saying it, but my family never fail to tell me that I am getting fat!!! I don't get why weighing 58kg is bad for a seventeen years old girl, alright, I am not eighteen, will be in three days.

   I don't blame my round butts and full boobs because I got a little from my mother who extremely hates exercise and never works out. She had offered to help me reduce weight but I kinda don't have the energy to lift irons so I say no.

    "JEREMY!!!!" I yelled from downstairs "GET YOUR ASS OUT, BREAKFAST IS READY" that should be better.

   It did works because in the next few seconds he is running down the stairs. we all sat around the table to talk about meaningless things while we eat the most horrible food on earth.

   "Dad!" I interrupted "Why can't I cook for a day?" I asked. Although I know the reason but getting to eat spaghetti is frustrating.

   "You know what happens, Mira" Jeremy replied instead "Years ago you burnt down our cabin, last year you almost burnt down the house but succeed in burning the kitchen" he put food in his mouth.

   My cheeks dropped, I know they will always bring this up but I won't let it keep happening.

   "You all know what happened" I tried to defend myself "The fire-"

   "The fire grew up legs and wandered away" Jeremy completed "Don't worry little sis, I don't want you to roast yourself one day" he grinned.

   With the last statement, I knew my parents are not letting me talk about cooking for a while, they are over-sensitive about anything that has to do with me being alive.

   "Dad" I made the cutest puppy eyes "You know I wasn't lying about the moving fire" I smiled desperately waiting for his ultimate answer while he stares at me.

  His gaze looks boring as when he gets too much of my tattoo story and how I feel it stings. He was about to say something when the doorbell rang and he tried to suppress a grin but failed.

   "Someone should get the door," he said "Miranda" he refuse to look at me  "You go" he ordered.

   I hesitated before getting up, my eyes were staring at all of them and I was silently begging them to believe in me once again.

   "Mom" I decided to try her "You know I will be careful not to kill myself"

   "You don't have to keep Sophia waiting" she ignored I pleads "Or do you want her to know about your secret?"

   That's it, where they get me from. I don't want anyone to know how I almost burnt myself alive and the whole house so I always try to keep cool when we have a visitor which is always only Sophia.