Briathrail // Albert 2MNG

This was imported from my old
BlogDrive blog posts.

This day is an A+ bummer.

I don’t know if the devil is laughing his sick ass off tormenting me, just a streak of bad luck just because I stepped on a broken mirror 2 weeks ago, or probably Murphy’s Law-effective-for-a-month?

Dunno. I felt depressed at school consoling myself and reminding myself that home is worse than school. Worse. School may be tormenting, but at home… it’s also a big bummer.

This day at home isn’t so different from other days or weeks that gone by. It’s depressing, I wished I had the money to take to a boardinghouse and stay there until my dad and my little sister comes by to visit us. I could still call it home. But technically only.

When my conservative dad went to his hometown together with my little sister who’ll be taking her grade-school jamming sessions there, mom started remodelling our house, Extreme MakeOver style. Only that there’s no time limit. She kept changing things according to her whimsical means. Put this there, hang this here, put this down here… It was endless seeing her being too busy while the cat is away. As the old adage goes, she’s into it.

It’s not bad, since I somehow approved of her makings, since dad grew up in a depraved home and he took only things that he needs. Mom wanted decors here, curtains there, in short, a “good” house.

Now she got what she wants, except that she also unleashed her temper too, on very trivial things of no consequence at all. She also lost some of her reason. She also took her time, and blames things that aren’t even to be blamed on us.

I’m a silent sufferer, a timid soul afraid to open the gates of Hades lest hell licks me in the face.

At least, on a timidly positive note, she bought me a brand-new PC. Now she got a brand-new scapegoat for all of my shortcomings, too. She blames the computer for everything that is my failure. I didn’t even have the chance to defend myself in her court.

She blames my CD player last summer for my shortcomings. She blamed my excursions for my shortcomings. She blamed my anime CDs and the TV I have in my room for my shortcomings. She blamed my Nintendo SNES for my shortcomings. She blamed everything I have on my hands. Or even my privacy. She blamed me closing the door of my room for my shortcomings. She’s not the only one who pricked me up with that last reason, my dad too.

I’m a liberal, and they’re either communists or conservatists. My liberal mind seemed jailed up for some reason. Probably it’s love. I have unconditional love for my parents, yes. That’s already a rule. But their actions, especially my mother, is pushing my wits to its breaking point.

I don’t want to open a talk session at home for I know mom doesn’t like them.

If my sister does a bad thing at home, I do also feel equal heat. i don’t know why I am to be included in the mother-daughter fracas. Let them eat cake.

My mom had also a pessimistic air, like when I wash dishes badly or I miss time to bathe the dogs, she rants until she says something that’s totally out of line, almost to the point I wanted to scream and bang the door shut in my room.

The 70s parents, mostly in the conservatist Philippines, they frown on children reprimanding their parents, even if the children are right. The Spanish bastards who came to our country in the 1600s is to blame for this blasphemy. Parents should also understand their children so that the above reason I have will be just explanatory. I think that it is right if they understand that children are humans and they shouldn’t act like the gods of ancient Greece.

I know I have faults too, some irreparable, some only trivial. But it’s not right that one chicken has to eat all the chicken feed for a hundred chickens in one hour, too. In my sins, it is only true that I must deserve what weight the sin has to be and put it in my back to carry. But it’s not true, succint, and right, to add more weights just for some worthless reasons. I am carrying now weights, emotional baggages. Heavy and sad, I keep listening to tearjerker songs in my room. I coop up there, silent and emotional, but luckily I am blessed lately by God to have a good hold of my temper. I have now a cooler head compared to last summer, I just noticed it one day my mom came home ranting. I didn’t feel anything even if the arrows are all lodged deeply in my chest. Thank God.

I have a depressing home to go home to. I think that this school day is nothing compared to my home. I am more happier going to school, smiling like I have no problems, disguising my wounds with energy and vigor, forgetting that I have this life by just going hard at school and trying to pass and excel.

Now the rain stops. Temporarily.