On this evening of absorbing an awful amount of negative energy, I am typing this, here. Ideally, I would very much like to be retreating into a safe haven of some sort: my mind, in the wilderness (or God’s backyard, whatever), alone in a foreign land (where a home is a home, because I am alone and I can be me), whatever.
If we all have days we crave another life, or a different upbringing, or the lust for a swap – or reaching denial, even. In the inability to come to terms with the fact that you were simply, born in the wrong time, wrong place, wrong… everything; this is that one day for me that I struggle to grapple with.
The thing with mothers is that they get overly-concerned. It can be quite frustrating at times, but today was just unbearable. As if the level of tension in the sea of thoughts and furious frequencies in my mind aren’t enough. Built upon this internal stress is mom’s over-reaction to trivial matters of some abrasion on my back. Just as I was about to loosen… over a slice of cake. Annoyed.
Just before that, the Dictator exhales with an incredible amount of force as if he were pushing all anger out of his system. Betrayal. Is that what he feels? “Initiative,” he said. He said I lacked it – upon finding out I had settled my school fees, without informing him. Alas, I am to be blamed. I am supposed to tell him that fees are due, or put in a word or two on his behalf when I tell father that the fees have to be settled. Mind you, the person in question is three years my elder, who hardly has any bit of “initiative” to take his studies seriously. If he can be bothered to check the Stocks on a daily basis, why is there a difference in the effort to take to check for the payment due for school fees? His anger is justified, he thinks. He can rage, but do I not have my own rights? So tell me, when was he ever intending to break the news about his grades? I fear, but it seems he is indifferent towards his academics. Almost all the nights he is out with his friends, and in daylight he is barely home. They go out to talk about the “future”, but there seems to be a conflict in present and future. I do not understand. Sure, he has matured a tad in the past year – but he is not anywhere near the likes of a 23 year old. I am 20: But I do not throw fits simply because things do not go my way, neither do I impose my views on every damned person on Earth and force it down the throats of others. I do not ask for attention nor do I want to be pacified. Do as how I command, world. Childish. Things don’t always go your way, and I learn to suck that up. Deal with it. I do not have a boyfriend, nor do I seek to please. Scorn. Just because you were interrupted, does the Earth stop rotating? Is the stock market crashing? Is a company going to crumble? Hold on, does everyone have to give you a flying fuck to beg you to carry on? No, neither can you throw punches at them. For a hand to point all its five fingers at five people, you get five hands back and that is, 25 fingers. Spoilt. I cannot process – you have a girlfriend whom you look after, and she is my age. You may/not spoil her, but for the record, it seems like this is a strangely familiar theme in Literature we used to study about: role reversal. You are supposedly the masculine, yet you possess the grudge of a petty female, crave the attention of the world, and you are, simply spoilt. For the age of 23, are you not likened to be five?