Turmoil

I had my first driving lesson today. Not that bad, considering the wittiness of the lecturer. The hours, however, made it impossible for anyone human to entirely awake half the time. Given that we had no choice but to sit way behind, I had to endure a bunch of inconsiderate guys with three ears (one to listen to the lessons, one for music, and one for chit chat) and a couple flirting.

Okay, I shall not dwell on that. Something else weighs down on my friend and I.

I HAD to find out that way, what better than the day before my birthday, and the confusion prolonged itself to the actual day.

Amidst the stress of making arrangements for this activity, I decided that taking a look at our hard work. Wonders, awesome photos and fantastic memories crept back to me, slowly diminishing the pressure. Until.

Shock. It hit me like a meteor. "Don't get angry this week, be happy..." That little voice whispered to me. So flipping the pages backwards and forwards, I stared at the pages. Is it supposed to happen? NO! How could it? All of them are ours, with 2/3 mine!

We asked for explanation and got none back, only more questions. Will they investigate this? We don't know, half doubting so. There's no way it can be changed, but it has to change!

All because I want the week to be a happy one, so calm I seemed. Now that it's coming to an end, it's time to demand answers. And a solution.

Do you know the most painful torture any writer can endure? There are other things that can hurt them, but they'll know what the deepest cut is. It stabs straight to the heart.