Tuesday, July 04, 2006 || Normal blogging will resume soon
- Today, dad was extremely pissed at me.
He started yelling at me, both pointing fingers at the things I did do, while accusing me of things I didn't do as well.
And as usual, he ventured into my "forbidden area of discussion". As always, he started comparing me to my sister. Again.
Not that long ago, I vowed, right here in THIS blog, that I would never shed a tear over something stupid and pointless like my dad and his insecurities again.
So while he lashed at me, I stonily, sarcastically remarked, "I guess doing drugs and sleeping around is okay. Alright. Point taken."
He glared at me and yelled, "SO WHAT? So what if she did? That doesn't have anything to do with this!"
I angrily stared at him, and really, for once, LOOKED at him. All I could see was a tired, disillusioned and confused man, desperately seeking for a tint of perfection, lost in his own illusions of how much the world owes him.
Am I REALLY THAT bad?, I used to wonder. I mean, I don't go clubbing, I don't do drugs, I don't smoke and I don't drink, despite the fact that most of my friends are into almost all of the above. But just because I don't do seemingly "bad" things does not make me a good person.
What if everything he has ever said about me was true? Am I really a horrible, selfish person who does not give a fuck about anybody else? A walking disaster waiting to happen?
So I absorbed everything he said today, replaying all the hurtful and angry words in my head. And I've realized that they do not make sense to me, at all.
You big, fucking hypocrite. Who the HELL do you think you are to make me question myself this way, who the hell are you to tell me how wrong I am, when YOU can't even see how wrong YOU can be? You hypocrite!, the evil, angry, impulsive and hurt part of me wanted to shout at him. To stand up for myself and defend everything I believe in in the harshest way possible. To hurt him in return.
But I stared at the tired-looking, angry man standing in front of me ... and a huge part of me almost felt sorry for him. Sorry that he can't grasp the fact that life is too short, and too imperfect. Feeling sorry that he wants everyone around him to help carry his burdens, not understanding the fact that everyone has their own burdens to hold. Who does not?
I sadly shook my head and walked away. Out of the house I love so much, yet I can't call it 'home' with a loving tone.
And I didn't cry. Not a single tear. Not this time, not anymore.
