helter skelter.

that is how i would describe my heart in the perfect sense and that's also when my brain is not thinking straight.

the common mistake about parents perception on their children is that, they think that their first child is always the fortunate one. to have everything, enough. well nurtured. well loved. well spent on. the second one, is always the one that they feel guilty about because they think that they're not given enough. reason being; when the third child comes into picture, the second one gets, --hypothetically speaking-- abandoned, to discover life on their own. often, i see, the second child turns out to be the most responsible out of all. finally, the third child is the one who is being loved to the point that they become mellow and left with no space to actually own their perspectives. whatever comes out from mom and dad are always true. they are smart and conniving. not to mention, a spoilt brat, in more than one way.

these are scenarios that i am proposing during childhood and upon entering adolescent.

but what happens when adulthood takes over with the first child?

before numerous parents opposed to me and say, "Easy for you to say. You're not a parent yet", please remember that i am giving opinions based on a first child/daughter. and not as a parent. so, i hope for once, even though it is widely known that the authority of a parent is a gazillion much more bigger than a child, i just hope that for a change, as a parent, you put yourselves in our shoes and think for once. based on nothing that you have gone through or by your expectations, but just based on our feelings.

siblings. it is even worse when your age gap is an obvious difference with your younger ones. as a first child, especially when you're turning 22 soon, you have no one to refer to. what more, to talk with. of course, other than that, the pure innocence of fun from your 13 year old brother, talking about the latest dance moves and the other brother at 9 years old, laughing with you while watching Spongebob Squarepants does enlighten your sorrows for a bit. in an odd way, you can click with a kid's perspective towards a non-educational but adult-hilarious cartoon. also, they make you feel alive in a way that you feel young and stupid(trust me, i mean it in a good way) again.

but, BAMM!

when your parents still interrogates you of your whereabouts and finances, that's where you feel a whole load of responsibilities on your already heavy shoulders. what with the problems at work, juggling between, wanting to achieve your dreams and eventually, thinking of getting married, always being self-conscious, what are the things that would actually make your parents feel proud. these are actually some of the things that crosses my mind, every single day.

they thought that they've given me enough. but do they really even know me to think that?

do they really know what my real dreams are instead of asking me what the fuck i am going to do with life? it appears to them that i am rotting away. just waiting to be someone's wife so that i'll be able to kick off my shoes and shake my legs. do they really know what i have passion in instead of dissing me for some of the things that i am actually good at? do they, in the first place, even know what passion is? do they really know what i can eat instead of just putting together a dish that will severe my skin problems? are they really being fair when they bombard me with questions affiliating with money; why am i can't afford to pay my multiple cell phone bills? why am i not able to give them the usual amount of money that i use to generously give for the following month? why am i seldom at home? where is my responsibilities as a sister and a daughter? do they really acknowledge the fact that i am in a serious relationship that will eventually lead to a happy(or disastrous) wedding? do they actually have respect and acknowledge my other half and his family?

all these questions.

sometimes, i feel like i can't even be myself anymore in front of them. and i think that they've forgotten that when they were younger, they did live their lives the way they wanted. or at least, the way their parents want it to be.

whichever path they took, does that mean that i have to live my life that way too?

and just because they are my parents, they get away with the excuse of actually shrinking my heart into microscopic fragile pieces, when they say that, i abide too much by either my friends or their loving families? like the damage is not done yet, they still have to rub it in that i love everyone else more than my own flesh and blood? how am i suppose to not push myself away when they say that?

nah, it wouldn't hurt, when the whole family shares the same computer that is now wrecked, supposedly by me(so they say) and then buy my brothers a new set of computer, to which i am not allowed access to when in case of file sharing emergencies. and, it wouldn't hurt when your brothers take your stuff and wear it as their own, but still arguing to the fact that, when you have said nil about it, they still choose to defend themselves by digging an old dark hole of their lendings to you. brilliant.

at the back of my head, i picture myself, living in an apartment cosy enough to hinder my loneliness. with a TV set and a laptop in the living room, a kicthen for me to whip up reckless, new recipes, a bed that i would cry and crack my brains in, a wardrobe that is filled with high cut sneakers and edgy clothing and finally, my cat, Lenge, yawning lazily across my coffee table. at the back of my head, i picture myself, storming out my family's door with a luggage and Lenge's cage in my other hand. but at the back of head, faces of my mum, smiling, my dad dancing and my siblings, running around and screaming, haunts me like a dark dangerous annihilation. too bad, English didn't invent any word for something beautiful but horrificly excruciating. Bittersweet doesn't do that feeling any justice.

i am tormented but i am too fragile of other people's wellbeing, to fight it away. maybe, after all, what Dad said was true. that i do need a psychiatrist. woo hoo.

urgh, things at work couldn't make things any more better. so, don't ask.

hence, that is why now, i am having a mass parade of stampede all over me. yay for everyone! i hope you enjoy it while it lasts.

until the day of my unruly merciless rage combusting in a cruel, reckless manner unwinds itself, i shall remain dreaming. or, if you like the sound of it; remain stupid. perhaps for now you will.

beware.

PS: inking my imagination shall be my prescription for now. *meditating*...ohm.