Wednesday, 5 October 2011

The mess on the floor


Last night, I was coughing real badly, my whole bed was shaking. I sat up and wanted to get down to get some water. Then, suddenly, the force of my coughing pushed up my stomach and I leaned over the bed and started to puke onto my floor. Again and again.
Great. In the middle of the night and my half eaten dinner was on the floor.
So I knocked on my maid’s room to tell her to clean it up. Once, twice. No one answered.
So I went to my parent’s room and woke my mom up. I told her I puked on the floor. And you know how she replied? She said, “Go clean it up yourself. Get a cloth and wipe it up.” Then she went back to sleep! Yeah, THANKS A LOT, mom.
Then I got really mad at her. Steaming mad. My anger bubbled up from the stomach and threatened to overflow and control me, completely. Then I had a vision that I was bending over my mom’s sleeping figure, a fruit knife in my hand. I could see myself plunging it down, into her chest, again and again. The blood was streaming out like a tap turned on full. I actually could smell the blood. Taste it, in fact. But maybe that was just me, biting my tongue in anger.  
I was mad at her for not helping me clean up the mess.
Or even inspecting the mess.
Or even glancing at me!
I was furious that she didn’t even bother to ask if I was okay!
She KNEW I was sick. She KNEW I had these coughing bouts. She KNEW I had vomited.
Yet she acted like I woke her up because I heard some noise.
How dare she treat me like that! I’m her daughter for goodness sake! I was sick!
And my own mother doesn’t care? Bitch. Don’t you know who I am?
Why can’t you give a damn? Or even give a flying fuck? Yes, I know why. Because you think I’m stupid! Don’t think just because ‘the fight’ happened long time ago, doesn’t mean I forgot!
I can still remember how you called me a moron.
A stupid, stupid moron. An idiot. A dummy. A birdbrain.
I can still remember how you said that she was going to be so proud of me if I did what she said. That just fucking meant that she wanted me to live the life she wanted to. She wanted to go to DGS when she was a kid. She couldn’t. So I should. She wanted to join in so many competitions when she was a kid. She couldn’t. So I should. Think again, you whore. I’m not you. I will never do that. 
I can still remember how you threatened to kill yourself because of me. How you screamed and threw yourself against the wall. How you held the pair of scissors. Because I was clogging up your ‘perfect life’. Now, I think you should’ve. You can’t even care. So leave! Leave this life and live a better one in Heaven or wherever you go to after you die. You’ll have at least another 70 years of ‘perfect life’ there! Yeah! You want that? In fact, I’ll send you off! I’d be honored! I don’t care if I get caught and get sent to prison, 
ALL I WANT YOU IS TO GET YOU DARNED ASSHOLE TO FUCKING GET OUT OF MY LIFE! SO THIS IS HOW YOU RAISE A CHILD? LIKE THIS? THEY COME TO YOU, SAYING THEY PUKED AND YOU DON’T GIVE A FUCK?
NOW I SEE WHY SO MANY 16-YEAR-OLDS GET PREGNANT.
THEY’RE CUTE WHEN THEY’RE YOUNG. BUT WHNE THEY CRY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE. IGNORE THEM COMPLETELY.
THEY ARE OLDER. YOU MAKE THEM SOMETHING THEY’RE NOT. YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS! IF THAT’S HOW YOU SHOULD RAISE A KID THEN I WANT TO BE A MOM TOO! WE’RE LIKE LITTLE ROBOTS FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH, RIGHT?     
I spun around and marched out of her room, went into the bathroom, got a towel and put it in my mouth to stop me from screaming out loud.
You don’t know how much I wanted to kill myself at that moment. Just get it done. Just get it over with. Just go and live in the paradise up there.
But I won’t. Because, one day, I am going to make you pay.  
Man, I am so emo...

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