Fuel to the fire

There comes a point in time that you realise how completely alone in all your problems you are.

And with all the things going on, I honestly can’t believe that other people want me to help them sort out their lives. But how exactly do I do that, when I can’t even handle the shit that’s going on in mine?

People need to stop expecting me to be the strong one, the one who gives advice, the one who knows what to do. Because it apparently doesn’t seem to be working out so great for me.

My life’s a mess.

I try so hard to stay out of it. I never wanted to be involved in the first place. When you guys have your issues, I learnt to keep to myself.

But there is something seriously wrong with this picture. You get mad at me over the most menial thing, then throw a tantrum at him. When I stay in my room and keep to myself, you accuse me of not caring.

But the thing is, I honestly can’t say that I do anymore. After almost 5 months of your theatrics, I’m so unbelievably used to it that I’ve learnt to give wait till everything cools down before trying to get involved.

And what do you do? You scream at me, beat me, threaten to hit me with a vacuum cleaner. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t fight back? Did you really think I would just sit there, helpless, while you vent your anger on me? Did you really think I wasn’t going to hit you back?

You have no idea about the things I’ve had to go through. The obstacles I overcame on my own. The things I learnt to do on my own. Sure, you were there at the beginning. But then as I grew up, you got so self-absorbed that you didn’t even notice the things I’d accomplished. All you focused on were the flaws. Yes, there are many of them. I know. But as I struggle with my self-esteem, my self-worth, my purpose in life, all you had to do was remind me about how much of a fuck-up I actually am.

So yeah, you’ve broken me. You finally managed to make me cry. You made me cry to the point of throwing up. Never have I been so utterly hurt in my life, and you are the cause of it.

So yeah, Mum. I hate you. I expect you know that already, but I assure you, this sentiment isn’t going away anytime soon. 

I hate you. I hate your theatrics. I hate your temper. I hate your insistence that I’m the most useless and most ungrateful daughter in the entire world. I hate how you claim your life is so horrible, when all the while I’ve had to put up with you.

I hate you. Plain and simple.

You good-for-nothing, shit-for-brains, uneducated, hypocritical asswipe. You don’t deserve all the luxuries in your life.

No wonder Dad did what he did. I completely understand now. If I were married to you, I’d cheat on you too.

You wonder why, even after what Dad did, I’m completely on his side?

It’s because he actually loves me. He would do anything for me. And the thing is, YOU know that. That’s why you hate me so.

I don’t want to have to go through this anymore. I don’t want you in my life. A mother should be caring and loving, but all you do is torment me and make my life miserable. You make me cry more than anyone else ever has. And for that, you deserve what you get.

And what’s more, after all that, you accuse me of complaining about you to my friends? I don’t think my friends consider it “complaining”. Especially since I’m on the phone bawling my eyes out and hyperventilating till I throw up.

But do you understand? No, you sure as hell don’t.

You hurl insults at me, and then wonder why it affects me more. But have you ever stopped to consider that, maybe, I call my friends up because I need someone to cry to? Someone who actually understands what I’m going through? Someone to assure me that it’ll all work out, and that they’re actually there for me?

No, you don’t. Why? Because you’ve shunned all your friends. You’ve alienated yourself to the point that no one, not even your family, wants to have anything to do with you. 

You question my need for friends. Did you even stop to think that perhaps my need for friends stems from the unfortunate fact that since I haven’t got siblings, I might need friends to prevent me from turning into the recluse that you are?

No, I doubt you’d even stop to think about anyone other than yourself.

You’re a selfish prick. A useless mother. A black hole sucking the happiness from everyone around you. 

So go ahead. After all your threats, I hope you finally do it. Go on and divorce your husband. But don’t expect me to come tailing along behind like a puppy, because I’ve already got one foot out the door.

 Just wait till I’m 21. If you’re still around, that is.

I’ll leave quicker than you can raise your mop at me.

Wow, I’ve actually taken to photoshopping stuff. Dah would be so proud.

Anyway, I’ve been attempting to study, yet constantly giving in to the temptations of every distraction known to man. Hell, I’ve even managed to pack up my room, just to escape from the hell that is mass comm.

I simply can’t focus. From dealing with Auburn Braids, to planning for my trip, I’m left with absolutely no time or effort to deal with studying. Plus, my week is so packed, I don’t know how to deal.

Here’s how my week’s gonna go:

Thursday - Stay at home and skype-study with Col.

Friday - Nessa’s birthday. Study in the morning, then go rush to meet Nessa.

Saturday  - Meet Col for a full-day Starbucks study session.

Sunday - Church in the morning. Pack my bags in the afternoon. Skype-study with Col in the evening.

Monday - Comm Iss exam.

Tuesday - Cram PR with Col.

Wednesday - PR exam. Freedom (more or less).

Thursday   - 9am flight to London. 

I just gotta make it through till 5pm on Wednesday. Then I’ll be able to enjoy my freedom at long last.

15 days.

Just 15 days till I leave this blasted country. And how I wish it would be for good. But alas, that will not happen.

Yet.

But for now, London and Paris will have to wait. I shall focus on getting through my exams first. Then I can jet off and dream of being able to escape.

Just 15 days…

So many of them. So little time.

I was looking through my old exam grades just now, right after I finished my elective ranking. I honestly hope this sem will be better. I really do.

Another 4 weeks or so till I’m free. I can’t wait to leave. Holidays always make me feel better. Being on a whole other continent, away from my problems, away from people who affect me.

Away from everything that usually matters.

I adore how holidays let you worry only about the simple things, like what food to order for room service, and how best to avoid being mugged, and perhaps how to cross the street without getting killed.

I long for worry-less days. They can’t come quick enough.