i took a walk hours ago just to escape from everything i had in my mind. i think the monster (aka my mom) really hates me. but i did not want to make her angry so i took my usual denim sling bag and took off. even when i was wearing my shoes, she still continued to yak. "You're so fond of making me angry. Who do you think you are?"
How could I respond to that? I was still tying up my shoelaces and was focussing on just doing that but I nearly said, "Shut up, I'm your daughter, but I'm no longer a kid." Knowing that I might get my mouth slapped, I cut that short and said, "Your daughter" and with that and a fake sob, I was gone. I could hear her saying this, "That daughter of yours, look at her!" I'm sure she was talking to my dad. She ALWAYS refers me as "his daughter" "your daughter" but never "MY daughter". I cannot deny I feel very sad that she doesn't really like me, but even so, I don't want to let the feeling controls me. I don't want her to get involved with my feelings. I want to be selfish in that sense. I don't wanna hurt her because I love her a lot. She loves me a lot, and probably shows me that through the hurt she makes me go through.
[But that hurt really makes me the person I am today.... which I am quite happy about because... ok, just take it that my life would be very different and I might like/dislike it. But there's risk involved...]
---------------------------
She really uses the hard alternative, the indirect way to show love eg. shoving hot chili into my mouth when i was six and couldn't spell the word "leaves" and spelt it as "leafs" and that experience taught me that failing in anything, deserved punishment, and I got so scared for the next test, I had to cheat. No regrets for that. No kids like to eat raw chili with no water. I shoplifted for a package of sweets when I was four (under the influence of my playmates) and I got caned with a belt. But listen, she didn't let me have sweets. It cost like 2 bucks. She didn't let me have it. But then again, I was still a kid. I LOVED sweets. She just controlled me. I must have shoplifted 6 times in my life. I got caught for the last crime (of shoplifting) for taking a 50 cent note pad. That was my mistake. No one influenced me but I seriously was very devillish for my age. Snipped off the fave flower off its owner's garden. Cut my grandma's fave clothes and that made her cry. (What was I thinking??!!!) Then proceeded to cut my hair half bald. CUt my cat's whiskers. Very close (read: very) to killing my grandma, because I want to see how blood works at 5. Ok, I shall not scare others. I was with a knife and trailing behind her walking towards the kitchen. No one was home.
I was playing with the matches in her room and putting my finger over the flame and I felt a slight burn and shit like that. Curious to see how blood flows I went out with the penknife (which I stole. Surprise!) and wanted to like, erm, stab her from behind, but I came into my senses at the last minute and threw that knife on the floor. Ran away from the scene and played with more fire. Burned some cottonbuds, bits of papers and 2 strands of hair. And the matchbox. Smelt of smoke. Got caught again. Had to face the music. I didn't know the meaning of 'you-may-burn-the-house-down' because hey, my brother and I played with fire a lot. We went out in the sun and took the magnifying glass and burned the grasses, and made smoke signals and all. We went to the balcony and shouted vulgarities and then hid ourselves behind the parapet walls... it was all fun. We did prank calls.... and etc. We vandalised. We were just boisterous and I was the only girl in the pack of maybe 7 boys...
I love talking about my childhood. Somehow it all seemed like a drama, but it was all true. And I am no longer like that kid anymore... eversince I moved house. No more friends, no more fire, no more plastic army soldiers, no more stealing (because shops started to put the cameras. Damn!) and no more spiders. My, I missed so many things!!! Believe me, there's more stuff, but I'm tired.
But I'm sure no girls want this kind of childhood. But hey, I played with the cooking pots and all that....and yeah... the loved Barbies. Until I broke the Barbies limbs and my mom had had enough of me creating havoc and stopped buying toys for me at 7. My childhood stopped there.
PS: After all these talking, I love my mom to bits. I just want her to be more understanding and dare I say, loving? She just treats me differently even though I treat everyone all the same. Whenever I initiate to have a heart2heart talk with her, she just ignores me and tells me off. When I cry to her, she'll brush me away after saying words like, "Stop crying and it's nothing". Nothing?! Ouch.) But she has her good side.... though most of the time she loves to act tough and guess what, I never seen her cry at all for us. She's that tough, but she only cries when I tell her that I saw a kitten with a crippled leg. She went all the way there to fin8d it and nursed that pussy.
I think we both have the same thing in common. Cats.
(Hah! After 10 minutes of clicking the "add entry" link. This entry is that important. No, it's not. I shouldn't have waited, should I?!)
3:06 a.m. - 2004-06-24
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