I thought divulging to ‘em how I really feel would make them understand. I thought it’d set the issues straight, bridge the gap and resolve any grudges that we have. But I was wrong. Guess, they’ll never get the picture, never. No matter how hard I explain they’ll never see the truth because they refuse to look at their own wrongs and take the time to figure out the root and cause of the problem. Ab initio they’ve had witnessed how different I was. That was no secret. I wasn’t just the typical kid I believe. I didn’t like the fact that they just think that what I’ve been through was but normal. They don’t have any idea how hard it was for me to interact with other people because I was scared I’ll be judged. No single person fathom how I really feel and the reason why I act like this. They just ignore me.
After two decades of existent I’ve had believed that my family knows me, that they understand; that they know where my aggressions are coming from. But unsurprisingly I am right, neither one of them understand. It’s very upsetting to realize that what they know about me are just based on what they perceived by their senses. The things that I demanded from them were taken against me. I’m not just the “what you see is what you get” type of person. I’m not transparent enough to those I know who doesn’t care. I’ve done everything to satisfy ‘em, to make ‘em proud, to give honor to our name but they just couldn’t get it. I don’t want thank you’s, I don’t want rewards I just want their sincere and genuine goodness towards me. I am sick and tired of constantly proving myself worthy of their love, care and respect.
I want ‘em to go beyond their understanding and find out what’s really wrong. I just couldn’t hold back the pain and angst any longer. A lot of things had been said and done. I’m already hurt. They could no longer take back the mean and offensive things they’ve told me. Even so, I didn’t mean to hurt ‘em especially my mom and my father but I still meant what I’ve said.
I hate it when they claim that they know me when in fact they don’t. They don’t know what I’ve gone through right at that moment when I slam the door of my room and sung all night long.
Maybe there’s no other person to blame but me. I wasn’t open to anyone. I refused to talk to people. The thing is I just can’t open my mouth and let one person know what’s eating me if I can’t feel even a slight strand of genuine care. I want people to understand where I’m coming from. Why I only have a handful yet genuine set of friends? Perhaps, I shouldn’t have expected too much ‘cause I’ll be the one hurting in the end.
My father thinks I’m being disrespectful. Is telling how you feel and revealing that there is something wrong with the way he rule the house against the moral law? I cannot just let things pass every time they’ll say something out of line ‘cause it tears me deep down inside. they think I’m facetious. These things aren’t just petty to me. They’re a big deal to me.
I’ve been a pain in their ass and a thorn in their flesh. But they don’t know that I’ve tried my best to make ‘em content and proud. Don’t they know that I’ve had a hard time meeting new people because they might say something harsh? Why I’m shy around strangers, people who aren’t my friends. Yes, I’m vulnerably sensitive to things that any member of my keith and kins might say because I value ‘em. And perhaps, I’ll suck this thought in my head that I’ll never be good at something because that’s what they’d always made me feel. I’m stupid and lazy. I’m useless so I must die.
I wanted to say sorry but not until they get the whole point.
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