18:51, Sunday, Sept. 13, 2015
This is going to be the biggest bitterest rant about family I'm making since probably high school, and probably the last for another long while. It's mostly because at the end of the day I do love my family and they mean the everything and the world to me and I wouldn't be who I was today without them and blah blah etc etc.
But anyway. There are little things that I resent my parents for, things which they couldn't have helped, things which couldn't have been known, things which aren't actually the true root cause of bitterness.
For example, I resent that fact that we were so frugal with our money and our household spending. I understood that it was better to save money and not waste and that we only really needed what was necessary. Its a somewhat good asian value which has been instilled in me since birth and it's done me good but it's definitely done me a lot of bad. To the point that since I was a child, I became obsessed with money, and that's only increased since I've gotten older.
I used to charge interest in high school to people I lent money to, thought it was only a dollar or two; I'd pick up money people would drop on the street and keep it instead of returning it; all I ever wished for was being able to have money, to have things, to be able to obtain the things I could never have.
Everyone else ate at the canteen, and even if I wanted to, I never had any money for it, I didn't have enough money to go out and do things, everything came from my parents and just seeing them pass me $10 to use only in emergencies felt like a burden, like a was safekeeping my entire life's savings. I felt so separate from everyone else, like even amongst people in my own culture I was different, and I felt intimidated by others, like I was less than them. I felt like I was so different to them because they could have everything I couldn't, and at the time, I had no idea how to get out of it.
Plus with my own backwards personality, that is so easily shaped by my environment and everything around me. I felt like one wrong step and the mine would go off. Everything had a right or wrong answer. And getting it wrong would be worse than death.
I just became more and more materialistic as I grew older. The only thing that stopped me from outright stealing was that moral behaviour also instilled in me since birth, although now that I think of it, I think I was more worried about getting into trouble, then actually doing something wrong. Because as I got older, I had an incredibly difficult time differentiating between what was actually right and wrong, what to do and what not to do, and figuring that out myself was fucking terrifying and embarrassing and annoying. And now I shoplift.
Of course things are different now, and I've come to accept things and reject them as I myself feel they should be. I more confident and less easily persuaded and sure of what I believe in and blah blah growing up and shit.
I guess what I wanted to say is that while high school was never hellish or too difficult for me, it was definitely a period where I was always wishing to be someone else, to be able to become someone who could get out of my current situation, and so I was glad to get out. It was definitely not the best time of my life. It's just sometimes I see people in their teenage years doing all this typical teenage stuff and blah blah and I just think that was never typical for me and that was never something I got to have.
And then I just feel all materialistic and blah again and fuck this entire entry is utter rubbish. This is probably why I don't write in here much anymore. Because this is just what it sounds like - rubbish.
But also. I hate that my parents and my brother have the same boring personality that I have. You have my father who is arrogant and altruistic and is educated and smart but only believes in his own 'informed' opinions, and has no sense of humour or materialistic desire, because apparently you can still be as frugal and communist as the day you tilled the farmland in countryside China.
Then you have my mother who is typically high-strung, goal-oriented, disciplined, one track minded woman with cleaning OCD and carries the weight of mortgage loans as if it were as heavy as the world on Atlas's shoulders. Also has no humour and is pretty much the type of person who let's everyone choose first before they do, which is all nice and all but fucking annoying because then it's all endless cycle of faux politeness and it's like please, you're meant to be my mother, the woman who birthed me, I don't give a fuck.
Then there's my brother. My dear, dear brother. Who somehow slowly become the equivalent of a giraffe over time. Because he never speaks. He demands but never gives. I don't know shit about him and neither do my parents and he doesn't even give a shit. I used to think this was cool and whatever but now it's like no. Grow up already. He's more like a pet cat than my brother, because he does talk, all he does is make noise when he asks for things, and you never know where he is or what he's doing or what he's thinking.
And what I hate the most now is that no one fucking talks. I swear I carry the entire conversation every single night and it's just me bullshitting about my day or some random shit that no one even listens to. But this is why I don't know what to say to strangers, to other adults, to people outside, why I have no idea how to act in certain situations, why I'm always so different when talking to one person and the next: because this fucking family doesn't talk. At all. So fucking boring. I swear I was born in the house of the cold blooded and formal.
I love my family a lot. So much that I would probably die for them. But it's because they are my family. Sometimes, I just wish my family wasn't them.