When I was about to picked up from school, my driver Jun cautioned me that we ought to hurry because... my father has been locked out of the house. Now this would seem like a stupid accident but things like this, in my world, are never accidents. They usually serve as a way to test me or to utterly torment me.

I have known the basic fact of life back then in high school. You will always have your highs and lows. I accept that but I never expected lows to be so painful. Going back to my story, my dad had unleashed his temper once again and the shouting, the god-awful shouting that has haunted my childhood, rose once again like a bad memory. As he entered the house, he demanded to see my brother who was in the house the whole time. My brother never heard the doorbell ring or the telephone ring because he was preoccupied with who knows what. My dad was so mad when he got into the house. I ran up to the room right away. I knew if I stayed around I'd be to blamed also even if I did nothing but eventually, I was blamed as well.

After he finished scolding my brother with a flurry of curses, he called me down. In my head, I kept asking, what the hell did I do? I didn't do anything... Well, my dad asked me what I wanted to do so that we will be able to answer the doorbell. Apparently, it has always been a problem because we stay too much time in our room in the 3rd floor. Well.... DUH, it's our room. Where else do we have to stay? Does he want us to stay longer in the living room then? then what is the room, a place to sleep ONLY? The logic boggles me but "my" logic has NEVER been a factor in my dad's logic. My mom is right, he is stubborn. I gave up trying to talk logically with my dad a long time ago, I just swallowed my pride and obeyed yet even then, I get the blame for something I didn't do. He blamed me for my brother's mistake and he dug up the incident where I did the same thing. I have learned from that incident and I answer calls diligently but then the parenting technique here is to label you for your mistakes. Is that fair? No you may say but then, is life fair? No. So this, makes sense.

I think I've said this in so many entries that I've become sick of writing about it. But anyways...

I cried again today. I felt miserable. Once again, I get blamed for doing nothing. ONCE AGAIN. I wanted to go home, kick off my shoes and focus on the rest of hell week and this happens. The tears didn't stop flowing then. I felt so weak AGAIN. Once again, I am reminded of how miserable I really am. Beneath happy smiles, I am reminded of my demons and I buckle under them and tears begin to swell. But I know that no one would come to lend me a shoulder to lean on. I accept that fact. So I held the pain in and just locked it up within me. No one needs to trouble themselves for my sake.

I am just not worth it

I make mistakes, I'm only human but you don't have to point it out and rub it on my face. I have enough regrets already and I'm trying to live with myself everyday yet there will always be those who point, who remind me of the past. It's already too much for me to try to live a day without hating myself without someone reminding me of how much of a jerk, an asshole, A BAD FRIEND, a bastard, an inconsiderate jackass, a lazy sonuva--- , a bum, a loser, an ungrateful whelp I am. I don't need those comments thank you, I know who I am. But then my dad (and even a friend of mine) decides to tell me those things and it hurt me more than anything. I get blamed for doing something wrong, I get blamed for doing the right thing, I get blamed for doing nothing. What else is there for me to get blamed for? I guess everything you cannot accept as your mistake.

I know deep down, my dad hates me. He carries my skeletons in his closet and he uses them to remind me of how pathetic I really am. He gives me a room of my own yet where am I now? I'm in a storage place with the newly moved computer. This room is filled with boxes and old laundry. He gives me a computer only to confiscate it later on. Why bother right? He loves me enough to give me those things yet he hates me enough to take them away at the same time. I swear, I could almost sense that he never even wanted me to have a room. The excuse he has is that I am irresponsible... an excuse excessively exhausted for 19 years running but then, I have to take care of my brother as well. I am now responsible for him. If I am irresponsible why would you leave him to my care? Why can't you do it yourself? You go to Micole's HS interview and it seemed like you barely even knew your own son. If they ask you what kind of persons your sons are, you'd probably say every possible mistake we have done ever since we were born and never -never- even mention what we have achieved. My father knows me by my mistakes, he knows nothing about me.

If I am to live under the reality that I am a person defined by my mistakes, I find no reason to exist. I'd rather not to have live rather than to have lived for a mistake....