Ever Since
...I was six years old. Just moved to America. Living like most other immigrants who came from China, living in an old San Francisco apartment building. I still remember the day my mother locked me outside the apartment door at midnight because I was scared of ghosts. Because I bothered her from her sleep. The day I burned my finger when she taught me how to fry salted peanuts. The day when I made too many mistakes at piano class so that I got left sitting on the curb of a deserted street in Sunset, California.
Where do I start?
Right now, I am just so sick. So sick and full of the hatred and annoyance that are thrown at my face every, single, day. It's like a daily routine for her. Right now, it feels like my life can't get any worse than it already is. My parents are planning to sell our house. Yeah...WHAT?!!??! What in the world are they thinking? Do they have any sense left in their adult minds? And she says she's going to send me to China. Because she can't afford me. And because she can't afford to accept anymore of my selfish personality. She says she can't stand me anymore.
I think I'm glad that I only have two years left in high school. My parents just go fucking CRAZY when they're mad. Sometimes I don't know when they are, or if they are telling the truth. Even if we do sell this house, we still have another one. It's currently used as my mom and dad's office and art studio. But my mom says that there is no room for me to move in with them. And that's why she's deciding to send me off to China, off to some place where she will never have to see my face every day of her life again.
[Here's a random thought: The world seriously revolves around money. I thought it was supposed to include love. But love doesn't go round if money didn't exist. The system needs to change. That's what's causing our family to "break apart."]
Also, I really hope that not a lot of people read this entry because it is kinda personal. You know.
So back to what I was saying. One day I came home from school and saw that our front yard area that used to have bits and pieces of old grass was replaced with nothing but dirt. I was partly puzzled at this scene: Are my parents having people install new grass? Why would they? Are they finally tired of trying to grow grass?
The next day I came home and our front yard was filled with new grass. I pondered.
So that day, I was really busy with homework and since I'm taking pretty difficult classes. So I ignored the grass situation.
Today is Friday. Water polo practice was canceled because the boy's team had a game. When I called my mom, she was all happy until I told her that I was going to my friend's house to bake stuff for the bake sale during the car wash tomorrow. She got SO frustrated with me. So I took the bus home first to practice 45 minutes of piano, and then left.
My mom called me about 10 times while I was at my friend's house. She was so desperate for something I probably didn't have. I don't know. But she did get pretty darn angry. She screamed into the phone that if I wasn't home in 15 minutes, then I wouldn't be allowed into the house (or family). I told her the the bus only comes every 45 minutes or so around nighttime so she decided to pick me up.
It was a scary ride home. The whole way, she drove like she was drunk. I guess we were lucky that nobody reported us as having a drunk driver. She was not drunk at all, though. She screamed at me: "You're so stupid. You don't even know what goes on in this family. ou saw the new grass but you probably didn't even know what it's for. You're so stupid. You're breaking our family apart." So this is where I ask: Was I SUPPOSED to assume that she was selling the house? Is that such an easy thing to just guess from the top of my head?
And according to my mom, I'm the most selfish and uncaring person on the face of the planet. I'm the person with the black heart. I'm the one with the fake grip. So you probably shouldn't talk to me anymore, because I might just attack you and slowly eat your away your death.
Can we all stop pretending?!
In my notebook there are scribbles. In my eyes there are waterfalls. Inside there is a bomb of eagerness that wants to explode into the open for the chemicals to react. My fingertips are calling for the truth.
She is such a good liar.
He doesn't know what he's doing.
And man. I thought I trusted her too. But she is so good at faking.
