homeSo, I think I have perfected the concept of being totally unhappy in my own household. Now, it's one thing to be scared, which at times I am, but to be unhappy? Maybe, it's the constant droning of, "You're a liar" or "You're a fucking screw up" that does it for me, but I don't know. I suppose I deserve it because it wouldn't have been said without anything provoking it. Yeah, I may be mature enough to handle the situation and if it was anybody but my parents, then I'd casually just brush it aside. However, it is my parents, and it's been going on from years.
Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore my mother. She is what keeps me going somedays and I thank her for that. Yes, our personalities collide, but that's only because I am exactly like her. We think, we eat, we talk, and we live, in almost the same exact manner. From my birth until the age of four, I lived with just her. (By the way, I'm three-fourths asian and one-fourth hawaiian. And at the time of my birth, my dad lived in the Philippines with my older sister who was born to a different father. Initially, my mom moved to America because she wanted to something better for herself and her children. However, my dad was reluctant to move and thus, kept my mom visiting the Philippines frequently.) Until my dad moved here when I was four. He wasn't really a stranger to me because I would visit him atleast 10 times a year for weeks on end, so it wasn't anything new. Well, maybe except for the fact that I no longer slept in the same bed with my mom. Which, when you're four, is a very sad thought. So, he took my mom from me and he was soon to take my childhood from me.
I will be straight foreword, my dad is a brute. Nothing short of abusive and he knows it as well. But, it's not like he hits my other sisters (I'm the middle child). His main enemy is me. I am everything that he is not, and I think that urks him way too much. Other than the fact that I am a child prodigy blessed with a large amount of beauty (this is where my fake cockyness appears), I've never done anything to him. Well, besides petty teenage lies that everyone expierences, nothing. And that never ceases to amaze me either.
And here I am. Old enough and mature enough to feel the gravity of situations, but I still can't handle it. You can blame me for being a female and having sensitive emotions or you can say I'm just overdramatic, but the truth of the matter is, I haven't go the slightest clue why I'm still effected by words that are complete and total lies. I know what I am, and yet whenever my father throws a "You're a fucking liar" towards me, I lose sight of what I am. In that moment, who am I? But, I hate crying in front of people. And I hate people seeing me in my weakest hour, so I obviously ring my head downwards and leave.
And the first person who crosses my path wouldn't even think to look twice. I don't want them to. I have pretty much convinced everyone around me that everything is just peachy for me. Nothing makes me upset, I wouldn't really ever yell at anyone, and I don't like hating people because I think there's already enough hate around. You know? So, I have. I have perfected the art of Sitting-and-Looking-Pretty while being absolutely broken inside. Because it is easier to smile fakely, then cry true tears and appear to be vunerable. So, as I write this with tears streaming down my cheeks and a lot more emotion that can't be conveyed in type, I smile to you, my reader.
