The rage
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Have you ever wonder when would I be updating my blog?
Because if you'd notice, sometimes I don't update for ages...
If I do, it would be very other hour. Gah...
The thing is, I blog when I *feel* like it.
So when would I feel like blogging?
When I am happy and when I am extremely upset.
That's when I need to pour out, to someone, but normally, I don't speak to anyone about it.
I have friends, however, most of the time; I rather not speak to any of them.
Keeping a lot of problems deep within me seems to be a better choice, somewhat.
Don't ask me why.
Blogging took load of burden off the chest, leaving me feeling much better.
I've been writing almost all my life anyway, since I was really young.
You'd get to read stories of my life in the textbooks, my note books, pieces of papers, diaries etc.
So yes, writing is definitely the best way. My way.
I remember being upset with Dad at a very young age and no one to speak to.
I was revising; there were papers and note book right in front of me.
I started writing since then, right in front of him.
He doesn't know anything about it, until he stumbles upon a note, written on the cover of text book plastic wrappings. It was not very obvious but he noticed it anyway.
Dad kept it to himself. Thinking back, he must be heart broken.
It was a very cruel piece of note. Spells out how much I hate him. Ends with a heart stabbing wish, I wished he isn't my Dad.
Frankly, I still hate him every now and then.
Being 26 years old and still hating your Dad is not healthy.
A month back, I screamed at him on a telephone conversation,
then slammed it down hard on him.
Then I went on screaming at the innocent mother.
It was continued with another door slamming session before facing up to Mom about not wanting to stay home anymore. I’ve always wish to move out.
Mommy, I can’t stay here anymore.
It is driving me near to insanity. I can’t take it anymore.
Please, I beg you please, let me go.
Promise I’d come back to visit often. Okay?
Mom looked over and said.
Don’t say things like that. He is your father no matter what.
Nothing is gonna be able to change that.
I am sorry you don’t like him and I am sorry you didn’t get to ‘choose’ a better father.
It is your destiny to be here stuck with us. I wish you a better luck next life.
Again, I apologize.
Upon hearing that, I stand up, walked into my room, close the door.
Regretted every single thing I did.
Wished they know that I inherited Dad’s temper.
I won't hate Dad anymore tomorrow...
Until the next time he starts shouting at me.
I’d give that 2 days.
Because if you'd notice, sometimes I don't update for ages...
If I do, it would be very other hour. Gah...
The thing is, I blog when I *feel* like it.
So when would I feel like blogging?
When I am happy and when I am extremely upset.
That's when I need to pour out, to someone, but normally, I don't speak to anyone about it.
I have friends, however, most of the time; I rather not speak to any of them.
Keeping a lot of problems deep within me seems to be a better choice, somewhat.
Don't ask me why.
Blogging took load of burden off the chest, leaving me feeling much better.
I've been writing almost all my life anyway, since I was really young.
You'd get to read stories of my life in the textbooks, my note books, pieces of papers, diaries etc.
So yes, writing is definitely the best way. My way.
I remember being upset with Dad at a very young age and no one to speak to.
I was revising; there were papers and note book right in front of me.
I started writing since then, right in front of him.
He doesn't know anything about it, until he stumbles upon a note, written on the cover of text book plastic wrappings. It was not very obvious but he noticed it anyway.
Dad kept it to himself. Thinking back, he must be heart broken.
It was a very cruel piece of note. Spells out how much I hate him. Ends with a heart stabbing wish, I wished he isn't my Dad.
Frankly, I still hate him every now and then.
Being 26 years old and still hating your Dad is not healthy.
A month back, I screamed at him on a telephone conversation,
then slammed it down hard on him.
Then I went on screaming at the innocent mother.
It was continued with another door slamming session before facing up to Mom about not wanting to stay home anymore. I’ve always wish to move out.
Mommy, I can’t stay here anymore.
It is driving me near to insanity. I can’t take it anymore.
Please, I beg you please, let me go.
Promise I’d come back to visit often. Okay?
Mom looked over and said.
Don’t say things like that. He is your father no matter what.
Nothing is gonna be able to change that.
I am sorry you don’t like him and I am sorry you didn’t get to ‘choose’ a better father.
It is your destiny to be here stuck with us. I wish you a better luck next life.
Again, I apologize.
Upon hearing that, I stand up, walked into my room, close the door.
Regretted every single thing I did.
Wished they know that I inherited Dad’s temper.
I won't hate Dad anymore tomorrow...
Until the next time he starts shouting at me.
I’d give that 2 days.
This entry was posted
on Tuesday, May 02, 2006 at 1:24 AM.
