Bitter and painful post ahead + Do not read first thing in the morning + Reality Bites

by alittlehoneyformyheart

It’s 6.20 in the morning, i got back to the house at about 4 a.m., the sun is finally up and i’m already thinking of how soon i can make my nearest escape. I don’t even plan on going to sleep because i just want to get out of this house a.s.a.p. So last last night i alluded to some personal drama that was happening at home but didn’t really want to get into details because everything was still pretty fresh in my mind. Even now, i don’t feel like divulging much because, you know how there’s always that person who clams up whenever something serious threatens to happen? Because they’re afraid that talking about it will just make everything seem more real…and it’s like the situation is so fragile that any sort of prodding into it will pop the thin membrane that’s keeping it all together and then everything will just start to overflow beyond control. Yeah i’m that type of person.

But anyway, last night i got into a heated argument with my 17 year old brother who happens to be going through a problematic phase in life right now, as every normal teen is apt to do. It was a normal gritted teeth confrontation between brother and sister and i admit now that i was the one who set the wheels in motion for whatever was going to happen later on but it was not my intention for it to go that far. So as usual we had some words and that was going to be it. That’s it, i had my say he had his, my mum grunted irritably in the background and that was the end. Until my father decided to step in.

And excuse my bluntness for any daddy’s little princesses out there, but this man i call my father? He’s just bad news at the worst of times.

In fact, the argument was already over and i had walked away disgruntled to my room but apparently, my amazing role model of a father decided to stay on and grill my brother as to what the fight had been about. Suddenly i heard lots of slamming and banging and i assume it’s my brother cutting some steam. He goes into the toilet and i hear my father knocking on my door asking me what my problem is. Also such a delightful fucking busybody, that man is. We all do our fair share of yelling for which i already feel increasingly bad for my brother because i never intended it to happen that way and i can tell it’s going down a bad road. I yell some more at my father telling him that he’s only made things worst when it was just supposed to be a basic argument between siblings and then he tries to manipulate the situation even further and i could just gouge his eyes out, i hate him so much at that moment. I shout that he’s sabotaging and twisting my words and it’s all i can do to hope the hairs on his skin singes at the acidic heat radiating from me right then and there.

Long story short, he doesn’t stop grilling my brother and suddenly my brother is in tears and if there’s one thing i can’t stand, it’s seeing a grown man cry. It must be especially difficult for a teenager who prides himself on the cusp of adulthood to lose control and display such vulnerability. I sense the situation is getting worse and i automatically dislodge myself from the situation by slamming the door shut on both their faces. I feel terrible about it because i had never imagined that it would have gotten out of hand. My father, ladies and gentlemen, ever the fucking troublemaker. Never lending a hand when you crucially need him to interfere but always there to stir the pot when all you want is to fucking get the hell out of the kitchen. I text my brother an apology and decide to wait for him to get out of the toilet so i can pull him into my room, give him a hug that he’ll try to get out of, apologize for starting this when i could have handled it better and then bitch about our insufferable parent.

Long story shorter, eventually my father and i realize at the same time that he’s having a fucking emotional breakdown in the toilet. I hear the panic in my father’s voice and i myself feel my tears flow out because i am awashed with guilt that i have made this happen. But now looking back, i have come to the conclusion that even if it had started with me, i was not the root of it, my parents and their son had that talk a long, long time coming. I was simply the one to unearth the can of worms that they had so shoddily kicked dirt over from all the recent past issues that were never properly resolved.

Anyway, we get him to open the toilet door and tears are pouring down my face as i rub his back and tell him that he needs to take an aspirin and get some rest because he sounds like he’s going insane. And the tears are still running down when i apologize to his hunched back and say that i never intended for it to happen this way, all the while throwing hateful, accusing glances at the real perpetrator who’s still standing in the doorway, brows furrowed together, eyes displaying a reluctant panic.

Me: “He’s having a breakdown, can’t you see?!”

F: “He isn’t! I believe he’s stronger than that! What about me?? Who was there to comfort me when i had my breakdowns?! I’ve had breakdowns over bigger things than this!”

Me: “YEAH WELL FOR ONCE THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU STOP MAKING THIS ABOUT YOU”

My wonderful father, guys! Always making things about him, always trying to butt the fuck in with his own unresolved anger issues from his childhood that he himself had never gotten over. Way to break the cycle, dad!

Long story ending, i can sense that this is beyond my control and i can do nothing to alleviate the situation since my brother isn’t responding to me. I’m mad as fuck as well at everyone and as lowly as i regard my parents in the light of their inability to deal with emotional issues that require any sort of affection or one-on-one attention, my mother is still the silent rock of the family, the pillar that holds up the rest of us burning tarmacs. Anyway, also since this is her favourite child i know that she’d be able to do something, if anything. So i go to her, i tell her her son is having a breakdown, so before he tries to kill himself or something, can she please get out of bed and talk some sense into him.

I then resume the role of comforting my other baby brother who’s 9 years old and terrified from his glassy red eyes, seeking for comfort while still trying to put on a brave face. He often feels helpless in situations like these and it’s all i can do to try my best and make sure he doesn’t bring these memories with him into adulthood. He doesn’t need the scars that we all bear on our souls. My other brother and i are tainted but with my younger batch of siblings who are 9 and 5 years old, i believe that they still have a chance. We talk and talk about nothing and everything for an hour or two, i even squeeze in a few laughs for his sake, while my parents try to do some damage control but at this point i’ve already detached from the situation.

Immediately after my parents get back from whatever it is they’ve been saying, i rush back to my room and lock everything. I know at this point reading a book would be way too silent for my whirring brain and i desperately need something to distract my mind so i put on a rom-com and immerse myself in that.

Okay so this post turned out to be about three times longer than i had intended it to be. It’s currently 7.09 a.m. and i’m considering taking a shower and leaving in about an hour when it’s still too early to bump into anyone but late enough to make it known that i did come home for the night.

Sigh, i’m already imagining what i’ll do at my boyfriend’s place. I’ll reach his place, throw some rocks at his window because he doesn’t expect me to be around til noon, snuggle into bed and take a restful nap, maybe go out and grab some breakfast and watch a movie or two in his room, perhaps get some salted caramel froyo and do some light grocery shopping, smoke some cigarettes at the rocking chair by the window while reading the last few chapters of The Goldfinch while pondering deeply on the author’s intentions and choice of words. Ahh.

Is it any wonder that i only seek perfection for my future? Nothing but the best for the rest of my days. God knows i’ve had to deal with all kinds of shit so far so i ask you, is it really too much for me to expect smooth sailing skies wherever i go? Screw anyone who tells me i’m too demanding.

That’s all.

xx

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