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Mild Day Today

Jan 04, 2012 - 0 comments
















I guess I'm very clumsy. Whenever there is an opportunity to make friends, I always stumble on my words and become awkward. I think that's why I don't have any one I could actually call a good friend. Also today it felt like my English teacher did not acknowledge me at all, even though I was in the front of the room, right bloody in front of her.

I think I feel and act this way because of my parents. Not only do they have a volatile and unstable marriage, we (mom, dad, sister, and I) are living off of only $55,000 per year, and with college for me only a year and a half away, I don't think we can afford it. I know I am a good student, but is that enough to get a scholarship? I haven't been allowed to participate in extracurricular activities because of them. And also because of them, I wasn't allowed to interact with my  friends outside of school.

I particularly blame my father. I abhor him. He is a brilliant but petty and pathetic man. He throws temper tantrum the instant something goes wrong. He insults and belittles my mother and I (one of the reasons why their marriage is so unstable) whenever we make mistakes. And listen to this... He gives me the "cold shoulder" and believes that by ignoring me or acting as I am insignificant can actually get, what, his point across? What bloody point?! He can't deal with my teen age drama. He doesn't understand the position he has put me in because of his paranoia of white people (he's also a racist) (we are Bangladeshis). He had promoted a "think everyone as competition" and "if you fail, you will end up spending the rest of your life working at a grocery store" mentality. To make him proud, my young and naive self accepted and believed in that idea. I still do. I don't want to, I really, really don't, and have tried to change my attitude many times, but it is so deeply ingrained in my being that I cannot help but think like that. Because of him, I detest anyone and everyone who is better than me in grades, and more recently, confidence, because I highly lack confidence. Looking at everyone around me, I just don't feel like I'm a good person. They are so nice... and I automatically reject them. When someone tries to engage me in a conversation, I completely tune out. I become disinterested. When I realise this, it it's too late. I try to save it, but I cannot come up with intelligible or relevant comments. And then they end the conversation.

"Friends should only be for school," my dad said. I think he is a hypocrite. When he was in school, he was swarmed by his friends. They used to hang out, buddy around, or have bro time. He still keeps in contact with his friends from high school. He was allowed to have these bonds with other people. So how dare he, that vile ****, not let me hang out with my friends?! Is it because he thinks my friends are hooligans? He has never met them! Not one! He thinks they're all drug addicts, when in reality they compromise the top 5% of my graduating class, are band/orchestra nerds, theatre geeks, environmentalists, and future-engineers. Like he gives a damn about my life. If he did, he would at least try to listen and understand. But no, all he does is yell and make HIS opinion heard, never giving others a chance.

I believe he gets off on yelling at people, making them feel miserable about himself. Why else would someone yell at a nine year old child about how horrible his/her writing is? Slap the kid when he/she wrote the number four without connecting the tips? What the ****?! Even he doesn't do that! He never hit my sister, and she writes her fours without connecting the tips! She writes her eights with two circles! She never got hit! I was the one! I was the only bloody one! I hate him! I want him to disappear. He thinks he's so ******* right all the time, doesn't he? That *******. I'm going to make him regret every single one of his decisions, his beliefs.

He's going to lose me someday. In spirit, he's already lost me in spirit, but I mean physically. He will become an estranged figure in my life, and when my children ask of their grandfather, I will simply say that he died of a crippling mental disorder, which he might as well have. He will never have me at his deathbed, never. I hope he dies with no one around him, all alone, straining to take his last breath, regretting and apologising for everything he was.

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