My parents always fight. I can hear them ‘speaking loudly’ downstairs right now. Sometimes I think they don’t even love each other. This is going to sound extremely harsh, but sometimes I think my mum may have been a gold digger. She always tells my sister to marry a rich boy, or wealthy, or at least a stable and well paid job, (well now that I think of it, I guess that’s quite normal). But my mum did marry my dad when he was studying to become a doctor, and, I don’t know. My dad’s a bit, really weird sometimes, he makes really crappy jokes and laughs at them himself (that also sounds normal).
But he is seriously a bit weird, so I don’t really see what my mum saw in him (harsh). And, I think my mum may or may not have been ‘pretty’ in her day or what not. When my dad used to get angry, it seemed to be a lot of the time when I was around, five to ten (now I feel sorry for myself when I think back to it, because man, I was only a little child…). Anyway, when I used to get in trouble, or have arguments, for some petty reason… Oh man, I was actually just a little baby, what, a little seven year old arguing with a forty-five year old man… Anyway, he would actually pull out some fucking scary (well I thought it was at the time) kung-fu shit at me, basically trying to scare or satisfy his frustration by pretending to hit me, or actually, I’d usually fight back, or run to my room and try and hold the door closed. Far out, my dad is actually fucking crazy. Though, he doesn’t do this anymore, okay now I’m laughing because I’m thinking back to when my dad cries.
Yeah, my dad is a bit of a massive baby, and my mum too. He would literally sob after a fight with my mum and like lie on the ground like a crazed child and sob loudly, and heave. I think this may have been the point where I lost sympathy in my parents crying, well only when I’m the cause, well when we have arguments. I just, when you’re so angry, you don’t even care if the other person is crying, I just find it so annoying to the point where I get frustrated at their crying, you’re not going to make me crack and feel sorry for you, and say, oh no, you’re right. I guess I’m stubborn then.
But still, I still feel sympathy towards others, it’s weird, I can be completely cold towards some things and some situations, but other times I’m completely sympathetic. Does that mean I’m biased or something? People say that I have a tendency to create judgement and then base my thoughts further on those. I can be subjective when I consciously make the decision to be, and when I’m biased, I know it too. People usually don’t believe me when I say I’m not biased or saying this based upon my subjectivity or own causes. Oh well.
As I was saying, my mum was also crazy when I was a kid. There was a time when I’d come home from a friends house after swimming in their pool (and watching Scary Movie One in which I was scarred for life), I was around six. Actually, I think I was seven because I’d just moved schools and was in year one or two. Anyway, my mum told me to take my bathers to the laundry and I refused to because I was tired. Then she started chasing me around the house, at some point I probably slipped and fell because I was on the ground and she was lifting me up by the legs. Obviously I was crying. I ran to my sister’s room, she must’ve been around sixteen and was studying a lot so she didn’t play with me much anymore, and tried to get her to “save me” in those exact words. She didn’t save me. Not sure what happened after that.
It is so clear in my mind that I’m not even just stringing together a few images in my mind, it happened like that. I guess I may resent my parents for being so crazy. I’m pretty sure I was an accident, that’s what my sister says, and I’m pretty sure it’s true. Oh well, that’s their problem…
I think my mum was crazy, well this is actually according to my sister, who also agrees she is crazy with her own crazy mother experiences… Anyway, my sister said she was crazy because she missed my dad or something. Which kind of rejects the idea that my parents don’t love each other. Maybe love grew, I mean, that is usually the case anyway. My dad was always on night shifts or on-call for registrar or something, whatever it’s called. And my mum also worked night shifts sometimes at the hospital, so it was just my sister and I at home. She used to blast the music super loud, Backstreet Boys, Brandy… In particular, Mariah Carey. She played “One Sweet Day” which I thought said “Once We Dead” which always made me sad. What made me bawl my eyes out was when she played “I Can Make it Through the Rain” because I missed my mum. I would literally crouch over on the carpet in front of the stereo and cry really loudly, my sister didn’t really do anything about it, which I find kind of funnily absurd. She was a teenager. Like me now.
Oh well. Just a thought rant from me.
Just Another Woo Girl