He thought.

He lay down on his bed, leaving his bag laying on the floor along with his dirty laundry. He lay there, thinking about his week so far. He looked around his room, it wasn't clean, the bed wasn't made, his clothes were laying all over the floor, and there were empty glasses on his bed side tables. He thought about how his mom screamed at his earlier for not cleaning up his room. He thought about how she took her anger on his younger sister. He thought about the shouting session he had with his mother. He thought about how he should be the one defending his younger sister if she needed his help.

He felt angry, but also understood that his mother was only stressed out. He regretted screaming back at his mother, he regretted many things. He thought about how busy he has been with the activities he joined. He thought about how he has deserted his friends. He thought about how he misses them all but is unable to tell them, he thought about how they feel about him. He lay there, thinking, thinking about his father, his father who has been an asshole. He thought about killing his father, he thought about how impossible that can be. He then thought about his studies, of how he should move to another city instead. He thought about his grades.

He then thought about his lover, of how he misses him dearly, about how sorry he is. He thought about how he wants to be with him, of how he really cares. He thought about his holiday, he thought about K.L. He thought about his tickets, the ones that hasn't been booked, he thought about money, about how he's going to earn it.

He thought about his problems, He thought about his life.