Esos

I don't know why my mom's voice annoys me so much. I hate it when she calls to tell me she's ready to begin her journey home. I hate it when she walks out to me at about 9 or 10 to tell me to go to sleep. I hate it when she yells from the kitchen to get more food when she doesn't have a clue or give a crap about how much I already have on my plate. I hate it when she lies to me about the garbage she puts in the soup. I hate it when she talks, when she wakes up, when she hogs the bathroom, when she tells me to eat some food, to loose some weight and announces to the entire family and her friends and co-workers of my stupid goal of being healthy and beautiful. Damn, I'm so ugly right now. What sins am I committing? Dishonoring my parents? letting the sun set on my anger night after night? harboring negative thoughts on others? I suppose it's all of the above.

God, I look around me and I see this mess and my reality's clutter is becoming a teratogen to my fetal brain. God, there's so many papers to read, documents to file, mail to open, food to throw, garbage to clean, clothes to find, shit to do. I should never swear with God, but this mess is eating me up. I think it's mostly an excuse for me to displace my concerns. And I'm becoming less nice, less forgiving, less considerate, less real. I'm becoming a terrible person. I want to move out. Ok, maybe moving out isn't the goal I'm reaching for, but it's the things that I assume would come with it, a clean slate. I'm sure there will be moments once my parents are gone and I'm all alone, I'll reminisce this condition, but what I really need right now is stability. I need more faith, I need something to look at as I'm walking. I feel like I'm drunk, staggering from point to point, half-assing at everything and barely getting by. I need stability, I need to feel in control.

Dude

Summer, come and make me Fall.

December

In that little corner of the round table, I saw how I didn't fit in with everyone. I had nothing to say to them, and they had nothing they wanted to know about me. I nonchalantly ate my meal, poured my own juice, and kept quiet to myself as they chitter-chattered amongst each other about topics I had no interest in. But obligated to react, I'd occasionally throw a smile or an  "oh".They, my supposed, brothers and sisters were just strangers to me. Well, not complete strangers, but people that have to say they love each other. Surely, I did not hate these brothers and sisters, but I was the granny smith of the fuji sack, the banana hanging in a peach tree. And for five years, I stuck with these people, because of love. I loved these brothers and sisters although I have little to say to them. I loved watching them, entertaining them, and showing them how God has changed me. But there have been many moments that lead me back to that day, when I hated the family, moments that lead my back to that day when I had no respect for any of those fuji apples, moments that lead me back to that day when I wanted to stay in my bunk bed until the bus came to pick us up.

It makes me laugh in disgust, the things they talked about and the pride they took in having those conversations. "AA, you know has been with BB" "Of course I know, I also know about AA and CC and with FF" "But I heard LL was with HH" "No, no no, that would never happen" So the entire table sat there, excited about the gossip and use of code names so other tables and I would not understand.  And I realized how little I knew about these people, how I never expected these brothers and sisters to have incest-ful feelings towards each other. 'Wow, these people, they're really stupid.', I thought. And I suddenly realized that I should care, I should be curious about my siblings. And so I concluded with, 'I don't belong here, what the hell am I doing here?'

Dot

God, I am so unhappy. But I still feel blessed.