My butthole hurts.
Like it burns really badly.
My butthole hurts.
Like it burns really badly.
Says the family who never listens unless you’re screaming into a loudspeaker and on the verge of flipping a table.
I’ve been in this home for 21 years, i’m well aware of how things work around here. And for you to suddenly just turn the situation around and say “omg why are you shouting, can’t you talk nicely? Why do you have to be so aggressive?”, a lifetime flashes through my brain and i doubt myself for a moment and think, “Did i imagine all of it?”
The times when i would come home and think to myself, today is the day that no one will pull you down. No one can drag you down unless you let them and you won’t let them.
The times when i’d prep myself up to tell them something important, telling myself, NO, you will be the bigger person and you will do this calmly and rationally. And they will listen and accept what you have to say and reply you in an even manner because they’re your family.
When i’d force myself to look on the bright side and say, of course they’ll listen to me! They love me, no matter what and she’s my mother and he’s my father, since i believe that it is so crucial that they hear what i have to say, they will believe it too.
I was always wrong. There were never any happy endings, at most a sigh of relief behind closed doors. It always ended in tears or yells and fits of rage and “NO YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO WHAT I’M SAYING” and slamming of doors and sometimes the reopening of doors only to close it with even more force than before.
I remember so much how frustrated i would be because no one ever understood me or even tried to grasp whatever it was i was trying to say, no matter how irrational it sounded at first. Frustrated to the point of tears and exhaustion.
Now tell me why i am so aggressive and so defensive all at the same time. Now tell me why every conversation i enter with you guys, i enter fully armed.
You tell me.
Filled with neverending rage, forever simmering below the surface, ready to bubble over at a moment’s notice.
What’s a better time to fuck your brain up with memories from the past then when you have three tests to study for?
I know i shouldn’t invest so much in the past, i know i shouldn’t still be bothered by things like these and i especially know that people can change. Everyone has skeletons in their closets and i of all people should sympathise with that
but at times i can’t help but get hit with flashbacks.
These memories weren’t horrendous or criminal or anything like that, in fact, in an average Asian background you could say that it’s pretty normal but i do understand why people get fucked up from being abused as a child.
I wasn’t abused, in fact i had a normal amount of loving from both parents thrown on me but what bothers me is the fact that because i was so young, i obviously couldn’t defend myself, not even a strong word to put a stop to it.
If it was going to happen, it was going to happen and anything i did to stand in the way would just make it even worse.
Whenever people ask me out of frustration, “Why are you so paranoid? Why are you always so defensive?”
This is why. I don’t want to ever be vulnerable in that way again, feeling helpless and fearful will always be the number one thing on my mind to not be.
My boyfriend craves his childhood and yearns for it to the point of secret tears. I guess he has some underlying issues there where i have had nightmares. I would do almost anything to not have to think back or relive my childhood again.
And i guess age has softened my parents but in my case, age has done nothing but made me more ruthless if anything.
Ask almost any Asian kid and you can bet that they’ve had the same experience, some have had it worst while others were faced with mere empty threats. But it doesn’t make it justifiable.
I think that’s why i don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to think of the possibility that i’ll fuck them up. I don’t want them to turn 21 and be carrying on with their lives and suddenly being forced to think back of the times where they were belted with no mercy, pleas falling unto deaf, angry ears. Or that time when they lost their new colour pencils and waited and waited quietly in their rooms for the inevitable beating that would rain upon them seemingly endless. I don’t want to be at the end of that simmering hatred and anger forever embedded in my future sons and daughters.
Just waiting and waiting for history to repeat itself, half looking forward to it and half dreading it, because you know this time, you’ve got the power and 21 years of living is a long time to prepare yourself to fight back.
I’m so fucked up. I have all these disgusting emotional scars around me that no amount of mind cleansing can scrub off. I can’t change that. I will always be haunted by these memories even in the midst of a laughing crowd, even when i’m standing in the very centre, my core remains disturbed.
Super late post! LIKE… 4 days late? Lol I wrote this the night after my last post but procrastination kicked in and i didn’t get around to posting it until… now.
After the hostilities that rolled around last night, it should come as no surprise to you that i was not hopping to be on the first train home today. In fact, i found myself driving at not-breakneck speed on the way back to my house tonight. I just wasn’t looking forward to being in a house where unruliness and petty obligations rule with an iron fist and cold shoulders. In fact, if my boyfriend hadn’t fussed about me driving back home late, i would have stayed later. Anything to avoid it all.
And i was right to dread it.
I came home and no one acknowledged the fact that their first child had stepped foot into the house other than my 3 year old little sister. Way to feel like a million bucks right?
But believe it or not, everything became better after that because i simply refused to have a shit ending to a good day. I called kitty witty #2 (aforementioned 3 year old sister) into my room for a little powwow and a quick Barbie makeover sesh while Kitty Witty #1 (who’s 7) eventually slunk into my room after being shooed off the laptop to mope about how he was bored and how he didn’t have anything else in the world to do. It’s sad to see kids as young as that being so reliant on the internet to fill their days. Take the laptop away and it’s like taking their souls away or pulling the plug on their lives. I felt hopeless as fuck myself because i had no idea what the hell i was supposed to ask him to do. I didn’t relish the idea of him leaving my room and looking for some other virtual entertainment to bury himself in and yet i didn’t have anything else for this 7 year old to do other than arranging my shoe rack for the 527th time for me.
But i thought harder and realized i wanted to spark something in him that he would remember for the rest of his life, even if just one night or for a mere few hours. I wanted to ingrain in him dreams, ambition and values for the future and at the same time i wanted to get to know who my 7 year old brother really was and is going to be, minus the dickheadedness that 4 hours straight of violent gaming tends to bring about.
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Wally?”
I expected him to give some generic reply which he usually coughs up in an attempt to impress his older brother (i.e. “professional gamer”) but surprisingly, he gave it thought for about a second and a half and replied, “An architect”. I totes appreciated the fact that he was being as serious about this question as a 7 year old could be.
“An architect? Oh why? You want to build houses?” to which he nods.
After some rustling around my magazine rack which is filled to the brim and find a copy of Elle Decor Italia a few months old (I bought it eventhough the entire thing is written in Italian because i thought it would make it easier for me to cut them out for my mood boards lol- never an easy feat for me).
And the rest is history. We spent the rest of the night just lying on the bed flipping through the magazine and pointing out things like lamps, sinks, centre pieces and ceiling fixtures that we envision being in our future homes, with the occasional deep insight provided by Kitty Witty #2 on how she “lavs the Barbie princess chair!”. Swimming pools (we both prefer lighter tiles) and furniture (he prefers sloppy chaise lounges all around while i would rather opt for a cushy love seat with casually strewn statement chairs here and there) were a big feature of tonight’s discussion. At one point i realized the depth of our conversation when he pointed out a darling four poster bed in a beautiful, minimalist room in washed out pink and mentioned “That’s going to be my daughter’s room!”. I just loved the innocence and enthusiasm with which that was said. To me it said a lot of who my brother really was, someone who wants the best for his loved ones, unselfish, soft hearted, thoughtful.
Eventually, i introduced the idea of being an interior designer to him which he fell for but was immediately squashed by my darling mother who is ever the pessimist. We then moved on to the World Hotels Portfolio 2013 which i stole from a hotel earlier this year which we spent another hour or so poring over breathtaking hotels from Budapest to China to everywhere else around the world. At that moment, I wanted nothing more but for him to absorb the boundlessness of the world into every pore of his tiny body and to just realize that the world is so much bigger than what he thinks it is. I want him to grow up into an insightful, imaginative, sweet innocent young man who persists in the face of failures and obstacles. Once upon a time, my parents instilled that idea in me back when all we had was each other but somehow along the way with all the new additions, they forgot how to do that and eventually just resorted to being bare, minimalistic parents who provide for their children (to which i am still grateful).
Around 2 in the morning, after 44 straight wins of playing Kids Hangman, i carried both of them to my parents’ bedroom in my arms, said both the Lord’s prayer and the long prayer with them (upon their request!). I don’t think i’ve felt more accomplished as an older sister in a long time. Tonight was definitely a memory to be cherished. I’m still disappointed with my parents and i still don’t know how to react to my father’s undignified verbal punch. But it made me realize that how your day goes is out of your control sometimes but how you feel about it at the end of the day is completely up to you. And that’s it.
The happenings of tonight seem to have made a heavier impact on me than i initially realized.
Do you know that snowball effect where something terrible happens and before you know it, it feels as though your entire life is slowly but steadily going down the drain literally within moments, minutes and just hours and hours of having too much time to think?
It’s happening, it’s happening right now as i type this.
For some maddeningly illogical reason, it just popped into my head that my boyfriend might not love me as much as i love him which is insane because my boyfriend is perhaps the most loving person i have ever encountered in my life. And most importantly, he loves me more than anyone else has ever loved me before.
When we first got together, it took me a while to actually get used to being loved with such a ferocity because i couldn’t wrap my head around this…other unrelated human being who was not a family member just wanting to be around me all the time. But yea the point is, even as i’m saying this i’m aware that it’s insane that i’m even doubting for a moment.
Lately, there’s been a change in the atmosphere of our relationship in the sense that i’ve just fallen in love with him all over again. I have no idea what’s changed. It could be the fact that it’s October which just happens to be a month full of celebration for the both of us and in the light of festivities it could have reignited something in me I HAVE NO FREAKING IDEA. But the point is…i feel like i’ve grown much more dependent on him. I’m usually quite detached and i tend to take a “yeah okay whatever go away” approach but now i actually just want to spend all day in his arms, just doing…just that.
And naturally, being the most paranoid bitch around in a flurry of emotions and family hostilities, just an hour or two ago i somehow came to the conclusion that he’s been slacking more lately because he now feels that since we’re on equal par now, he can take me forgranted. He hasn’t given any indication whatsoever, on the contrary he’s been as amazing as he always has been so i really don’t know what the point of this stupid post is. Probably just black and white evidence my impending insanity. Lol i obviously have shit issues about being overlooked and underestimated. Anyway, i’ve been fending off these ridiculous notions by making a mix tape for our upcoming second year anniversary on this 29th!
I’ve downloaded shitloads of cliched songs and covers (okay Glee) which i know he’ll love (maybe?) and some others that are more to my liking but which he’ll listen to anyway because i’ll tell him to pay special close attention to the lyrics! This post was started like two hours ago but apparently, i’ve managed to cheer myself up in that duration while searching for all my favourite love songs and in case you can’t tell, this post is ending on a happier note than it started on. Yayy me! Will post up the final list of songs that i’ve decided on! However, i can say that this song has had a lot to do with me feeling better (cheesy cheery poppy boyband-ish love songs FTW!)
“If this is love, then love is easy. It’s the easiest thing to do.”
“If this is love, then love completes me cause it feels like i’ve been missing you”
I feel nauseated.
I feel like sleeping, like crying, like spitting out this bad taste in my mouth, like i’m being gutted inside out through tiny little incisions
but most of all i remorse.
Cool, hard, solid remorse.
I don’t feel much other than that.
To hear the words of utmost hatred for you being spat out his mouth and yet sensing his fear at the same time
is just a completely different experience altogether.
It’s almost surreal.
It’s as if i’m dealing with that fat sadistic bully in the playground who hasn’t fully formed ideas of sexism in his head but knows just enough on how to put a girl down with the right words.
Why didn’t you have the guts to say it louder huh? To say it to my face? To shout it from the rooftops? Why didn’t you?
And no don’t go bitching to mum about it. Why don’t you load up your guns and face me and tell me what you really think about me?
Is it because you secretly know that i’m just a push closer to the edge? COWARD.
GO THE WHOLE WAY. I DARE YOU. TRY ME.
“You’re going to regret what you said about me.”
And you will. I’ll definitely remember to take your advice, daddy.
I haven’t be posting in the past few weeks, not because i was too busy (although there was that one intense week with the AIPA event) because duh it was the mid-sem break for about two weeks and once the good
lazy times started rolling there was no turning back. But it wasn’t completely unfruitful! For one, i headed to the library a few times to get some work done because no way was there any chance of me being a functioning member of society from the comfort of my home which was great (although the noise level just about murdered my ear drums). Now the semester has started and things are rolling back into gear again which is good, i actually feel much better after writing my first essay of the semester. It just make it feel so much more prepared for my other assignment and i feel more in touch with my writing skills again.
Anyhow, one of my favourite, favourite TV shows of last year was American Horror Story!
I loved every single bit of it, from the plot lines, the twists, the morbidity, the music, just everything (there were a few gory parts in there but i was willing to overlook it because it was just that good) so naturally when the second season came out, i was just as excited if not more. Even when i found out that the story line would be completely different! Until i saw the trailer. I only saw one (i heard there were 10, i only managed one) and that was enough to scare the living daylights out of me for months. Like, i completely halted in my tracks and did a 180. I’d like to think of myself as someone who’s not really one to shy away from thrills and chills, especially when there’s a good crowd and a good jibe but if there’s one thing which will get me every single time, it’s blood. I mean, seeing blood itself say, in a puddle on the floor is pretty icky (wouldn’t everyone say so?) but what really gets to me is seeing how it got there. People don’t get it when i say that but the idea of self mutilation or physical bloody violence is just what my nightmares are made of.
BUT i’ve decided that i’m going to go ahead and watch it. I for one, extremely detest the idea of living life in fear. I really do. I understand that fear is a normal emotion and can even save your life at times but i don’t want to live a live forever second guessing and hesitating. And if i were to let fear get in the way of simple things like watching a show that i actually do want to watch, then who’s to say it won’t stop me from doing bigger things next time just because of my fear of blood? It doesn’t mean that i’m going to be all hippie and shit , i’m still going to be the most paranoid person around when it comes to my safety but yeaa.
UPDATE: I’ve made it through two freaking episodes! They weren’t too bad but seriously, i need to like strap my hands to the sides or something because they seem to find themselves plastered over my eyes every two seconds. P.s. That scene on top of that chair with Adam Levine is just so mmph. You can strap me to a dentist’s chair whenever and however you want!