Saturday, April 02, 2005
Sins of the Father
The house has been quiet lately and not in a good way. I have known this silence before and I fear of it, because it just means that something was up and something was terribly wrong. There was this time when my mom and dad had a supposed fight. That time, everything was quiet as it was today. When I asked my dad about it, he just said, it's really none of my concern and even if I did want to know what was happening, he just said, "It's not your problem, it's mine"
Now if I remember correctly, I'm part of this family too. So I don't know whether my dad really thinks I am capable of handling problems instead of him hiding every dirty little secret. I feel like my dad just doesn't know me at all. We're more like strangers in the same house, everything we talked about are mostly business stuff (school and his favorite, my life). Truthfully, I think he doesn't respect me as a growing person. I'm still that little kid who asks to have him leave the light open when I sleep to scare away the boogieman which is why I often find myself at the center of his constant badgerings.
I came home today and first thing he commented was the clothes I was wearing. He said something like me wearing clothes that were baduy in front of my friends too. God, and he wonders why I don't go downstairs to where he is. Whenever I see him, he gives me this look, this look that singles out every detail to criticize whether it's my hair (he hated it when I shaved my head), my clothes (he thinks styles of the 80's are still in), the computer (his excuse for everything. It's kind of stupid to blame something he doesn't understand) or just how I look (please dad, not everyone had your dashing devonair look when you were a teen (rolls eyes)). I hate it, I honestly do, I hate the way he dissects me and putting on me his expectations. Whenever I pass by him, it's always a moment of silence or a moment to criticize SOMETHING about me. We are worlds apart, I learn to accept things and he wants things his way which is why I am always the one kissing his feet.
My dad never tells me what's going on. When mom is upset, I don't know about and guess what? Mom starts hating me too and Dad, dear old dad, would sometimes let out his frustrations on me, the next best thing. My mom told me my dad had a temper and he never really knows where to draw the line. For years, she told me how she has learned to handle it but now I doubt it. Fights are coming more often and the uneasy quiet has become a full scale void in the home. I used to wonder why mom went out with her friends more often than back then and we were stuck with a sudden influx of burned or deep fried food everyday and maybe now, I do know. I don't want to think that they will get... separated but really, every fight brings me closer to the thought. All I could really, is watch.
Dad doesn't want me involved so I don't care, I'll just stay there then, his orders.
I am not allowed to be myself, so be it. I'll be myself when he's not around.
He thinks me writing is pretty pointless, I disagree and it ends with him not giving a damn.
He wants to give me crap for putting on the wrong shirt. Let him, I'll just walk away.
If he wants me to be responsible for my actions, shouldn't I dictate my own actions?
How can I live like this for long really? My mother finally caved and the fights here become more often. I isolate myself in my room and try my best to escape meeting them in the hall. I do not want to talk anymore, it's just so pointless to talk to someone who thinks his way or the highway. Am I really a bad kid? Who knows... I sure don't. I can't be myself at my own home because I'm always a subject to him, he who gave me my life and even if I feel that it isn't fair, I have to obey because he is my dad! and he sacrificed so much to keep me alive... freedom or obligation, that is basically my family life.
What do I do then? I really don't know. I have no home to be at peace with really. Everything's so fucked up that it seems so pointless to even wake up in the morning. There was this one dinner when my mom asked me whether I had friends who had family problems and I always felt proud to know that my family never had such problems... then I grew up.
Riding the Lightning
7:19 PM
