Thursday, February 24, 2005
I'm a Ghost
This day taught me one important lesson, no one gives a damn.
Apparently, what I say doesn't register to the otherwise NORMAL people, and I say normal in a sarcastic way. Whenever I tell someone something, they apparently don't hear it and by the time I follow up on it, they reply with a rather annoying "you didn't say so" which is bullshit since I already told em what I wanted to say but apparently -again- they don't give a damn about what the hell I say. Is it because they think I'm an insignificant nobody not even worth a sliver of your time (which I can believe myself to be already, thank you) or is it because of my 'soft voice' as my dad put it. Well what the hell do you expect me to do, shout at you? God, where were people when they were given ears or better yet, where were they when they were handing out brains to use em.
Let me take you first into one of the oh-so-loved family issues about moi. If most of you didn't know yet, I am a black sheep in the family which is safe to say that every nook and cranny aspect of my life is subjected to criticism. In the household, the job aptly falls on my parents. Now I know, it's a parent's perrogative to pick at every single detail of their children but add that to me being different and their *ugh* standards, and you got yourself hell to live with every single day of your life.
Aside from the criticism in posture, food, weight, height, girlfriends, clothes, habits, hobbies, our arguments in me taking an interest in writing and comics, my driving, my studies, relations with my brother, my friends, the way I talk, the way I walk, my jokes (the list goes on and on, everyday's a lottery) this particular night was about the way I tell them something and later on tell me that I didn't tell them so. What I got was a badgery of pokes and jabs at my already miserable life. May I also point out, these are the people that say I was too secretive and why the hell not? No one gives a damn anyways. I love my parents but that doesn't mean I like them. If they need to make a case out of every single detail in my life then pray tell, what am I living for? The usual parent's excuse is to say, 'It's for your own good when you're older' but 18 years of criticisms, man. You'd think I've learned enough but what do I know, I'm the guy no one pays an ear to.
In a way, I'm never at home if home were the place of belonging -no- because I don't belong, I don't feel it. Does anyone? Maybe some people share my dilemma and yes, they might beat it worse but I have not met anyone whose life was so criticized, so defined, so dictated that it has driven out any sense of warmth in the home. No. I do not belong here, I don't know where. Always and ever will be, wandering
Riding the Lightning
9:55 PM
