Bitter

Bitter. Today, I am bitter. Maybe you could already tell from the title of this journal. 

If I am honest with the way I think of myself, I am not often bitter. I can ignore what is thrown at me. I can reason what is thrown at me. I can accept and move on with what is thrown at me. Today I can't do any of those things. Today I am held by my emotions in a way that is well into unhealthy. But I'm done with what is going on. And I don't care. I want to document tonight's going-ons so my future self won't fall into a false sense of hope and security. Because there is truly none to be found when a bad situation arises. At least not in this family. The best hope I could have is in getting away from here the moment I an old enough.

Today, I was sleep-deprived. That is often how such stories begin, right? Sleep deprivation combined with stress results in a human that is less able to deal with what is handed to them. Such is how I felt today. 

There was a big math test coming up. I studied hard. I sat down and reviewed the material, doing questions. Even the word problems. 

Two hours into my studying, my dad comes home. I expect this. My mom had told me that I was to attend a seminar today on AP class selection. I knew nothing besides that. She plans everything I do without divulging much information on me. And frankly, I can't bring myself to care much of the time. 

My dad is insufferable. He finds the need to shame me around every corner. And on the long hallways between corners, he seeks my attention. He is loud, rude, obnoxious, and never listens to what people say. He believes everything in the house is personally owned by him. Crack the phone screen? Such is a personal attack against him with no way to make up. There is no way to pay it back or mediate the situation. He will bring it up again and again in the following months and years. He will not accept apologies or payment. And still he expects me to cherish him. 

I cannot. I see his poor attempts to interact with me. They only annoy me. If I don't want to snap at him in my already less than optimal state, I must shut myself down. Betray no emotion in my face. Block out his words. Speak little to him. 

We attend the seminar. Left and right, he corrects everything that he deems wrong about me. I must listen to every word and take notes. I must not rock the chair and shuffle my legs. I must not lose attention for one second. I must not doodle. I must be at full attentiveness even when nothing is being said. I must not even think of looking at my phone, even while in line. Any of these things will earn a shake of the head and shaming words. Words asking why I am not an obediant child. Why I am not logical. Words that should not hurt me so much but they do. All the while he settles into a nice game of Clash of Clans. The scumbag. 

My parents don't believe I feel much. They applaud me often for not being too troublesome. For being obediant. The problem is, if I express my emotions I will be met with an onslaught of words about how this wastes their time. Their money. How my problems are irrelevant in the face of their issues. I do not joke or exaggerate. I have experienced this countless times. They do not know how much they influence me. Their words and their actions. 

My mother's abraisiveness and pride. Her inability to be proven wrong. My father's sloth and give-up attitude. Their interactions. I hate it all. 

We return to the house only to learn that the seminar was the wrong one. My mother sent us to the wrong address all along. Wasted time that I would have spent doing many more productive things. So many things I have waited to do for so long.  

My father attempts to admonish her. She does not have it. She can only scream and yell about how much she has done for us. How much work she does on a daily basis and how-dare-you-talk-to-me-that-way as if we don't even have the right. As if we are lowly beings.  

I can't have it today. I won't. I should never have. I can only ask her quietly to simply accept that she made and mistake and move on. She takes this as a personal attack. She swoops in with all the "I DO SO MUCH WORK FOR YOU EVERYONE MAKES MISTAKES." I agree to this. "WHY ARE YOU ACCUSING ME". I tell her, hackles raising, that I am not and I only wish for her to accept her mistake. She does not have it. A few repeats of this later, during which I admittedly became heated. She begins slamming pots and pans and screaming about what do I want from her. I repeat it again. She demands that I don't speak a word to her "or else I may become angry and you don't want to see that". "or else you'll flame me up and then it'll be your fault." This is, in every way, infuriating. Her immaturity shows no bounds. Her rampant use of excuses. Her claim that she has no CONTROL of hersef. I hate it. I hate it so much. 

I look at my dad as if to say "look at this. Will you accept this?" He simply shakes his head and beckons for me to stop. I will not stop. I will not accept that I am "wrong". 

I did not eat dinner tonight. I will keep studying until I finish with all the needed material. It is much more important than what they can offer me. 

I am proud, really, of the fact that I am able to stand up to them now. Before I could only be crushed over and over until I started hiding in the cracks so they could see me or get near me. Now? Now I will stand tall. They won't put a dent in me. I won't let them.

Update: My father tried to lecture me on obedience again. I am a bad child for going against her. We must both be crushed by her will and her iron "reasoning". Everything is done for my own good and therefore I should submit.

If she is so great, I feel like she might be able to better take mistakes, apologies, and reasoning. It is not hard.