Cindy, Cindy : The Perfectionist

"Cindy, Cindy... Cindy". That's all I heard over and over again. Only one person can scream my name at the wee hour of the day; only my mum does that."Cindy", the voice kept calling from down the stairs, probably from the kitchen, my mum's favorite place in the home.

I still wonder why she loves the kitchen so much. As for me, the kitchen is the last place I will want to find myself.I rolled over my bed grudgingly, it was too early to get out of bed, the day isn't even bright yet, I wonder what the time will be.I peered through my duvet looking towards the alarm that laid idle on my bed stand."Oh geez...it's just 6:30am, what does mum needs from me by this time of the day", I soliloquized angrily."Cindy, don't let me come up to your room to get you out of bed", mum called out the umpteenth time.

My mum is a woman of her words. Having to live under the same roof with her, leaves me with just one option, run away from home.

Her constant nagging leaves me in despair. Most times, I wonder why God decided to bring me into this home, with my mum as a disciplinarian that doesn't take a No for an answer.

It's either a Yes, or a Yes.CINDY THE PERFECTIONIST..........

Read more