I was quite right about the premonition that the old dreary matters were looming ahead, and now I am in the middle of such a nuisance, feeling dejected, uncomfortable and frustrated to death.
Six days ago, I was pressed by my parents to receive another cure for the small white patches crawling about my neck, which has inhabited my skin for nearly three years and almost blown me to the edge of despair. Having tried two or three hospitals and seen the white patches uncured, l am starting to lose hope and try putting this behind my mind. But my parents are not, especially my mother, who incessantly gets on my nerves with her babbling tongue to push me to the further treatment whose effect, I dare say, would be undesirable. Honestly speaking, I grow terribly tired of my mother and have already decided to fly the nest and leave her as soon as I gain my own powerful wings.
This time, I was firmly against the treatment at first. However, I soon lost my ground, for I caved in to the costly overcoat and glasses bought by my parents, and then steeled myself to take the unpleasant treatment, yet with no hope pinned upon this.
