Friday, November 04, 2005

I'm not okay now. I'm trying my best not to think about it. But it's impossible when I'm living here, and everywhere I hide, I can hear the voices, the rants, the whispers... even the cries. I want to get out, I'm dying to get out. I got out this afternoon. Less than 2 hours, I was in Woodlands Regional Library borrowing some books. In less than 2 hours, more had happened. I opened the door and stepped in. And everything just becomes worse.

Why. He hasn't returned home for another bloody 2 hours.

The previous entry. It wasn't about how much I want to go to the goddamn concert. It's the characters involved. That happened last Sunday. Count back. How many days had it been. I don't even bother counting. Those were the number of days the bedroom had been empty, the aircon unused, fourth time this year already.

I can't get out now. Not now, not tomorrow, not until he comes home. Yea, that's how it looks like now.

I'm bound to stay home for good. Why. I'm alone at home again. Right now. I'm alone at home again. My elder sis not back from work, second elder sis gone schooling, parents out after phone calling his friends. Out where. I didn't even bother asking. Third time since a few days back. Or is it fourth? My task is to call my father if he returns. Which means I have no task at all. Because he doesn't return.

I don't understand what's the quarrell going on between them. And I don't understand why they have to act as if nothing's wrong in front of me. Damn, if only I'm that stupid huh. Then perhaps I'll feel happy staying at home instead of feeling so lousy.

No wait. Lousy is not the word. I'm feeling morbid. Influence, must be. How many times did I overhear my eldest sis mentioning him using sucide as a threat? Countless. He broke off all contact with us. He was at his friend's house last night, watching soccer, we had to know that through a friend.

Fourth time this year already. Really. I only started knowing since the last time. All along I had been the sweet and innocent young child that doesn't know a fucking thing around this house. To them, at least. Why. What I'm supposed to do is to study. I'm not even obliged to care.

Perhaps it's best for me to stay out of their way. Let the adults do the things and I just sit back and watch huh. Why doesn't it occur to them that if he is to contact anybody in this household, the person will be me. Why hasn't it occurred to them, that he chose to call me the other time, the last time. I said that to them. They want me out of this whole thing. They don't want me to be "influenced". Right. They think my brother is a bad influence, and I'm to stay as far away from him as possible.

Can't they see. They're forcing him to a corner. He's not using sucide as a threat. He sees sucide as a mean. I didn't bother talking. Why should I. Perhaps I'll grow up just like him. We had similar characters you know. Perhaps I should prepare myself. I might grow up to do the exact same things as him. Run away from home for days, weeks, or months, or never come home.

The whole family now sees him as an outsider, outcast, enemy, you think up more names, I can't think now. And they discuss it behind my back. Why. I'm not to be involved, you see. I'm supposed to be living in this picture they painted and named Home Sweet Home. How apt. I'm led to believe he's not run away from home, he's only went on a little trip, and whilst he's at it, he misses home continuously. Hey, I believed that you know. I don't even know for how fucking long I had been believing that I have the ultra perfect family on Earth. It makes me feel stupid. Alright. I am stupid.

Right. It can't be that bad. It's been the fourth time already, hasn't it. He'll just return home safely like he did for the last three times, stayed for a couple of months, and then off for his disappearing act again. Why should I care. I should just act stupid and dumb and ignorant and carry on reading my thick Geography textbook. Yea, like I care. I don't bloody give a damn my favourite sibling is missing. No, I can't use missing. They know where he is, don't they. Or they think they do. Which means he isn't really missing in that sense. Alright. Co-missing. Half-missing. Whatever.

What's with all the despise. Just because he dyes his hair in a weird colour doesn't make him the top criminal that the police is trying to nab. What the fuck. The other two dye their hair too. Both brownish red. So what. I told Anson before I want to dye my hair silver. Just that I can't okay. I'm studying. But I want my hair silver. That doesn't make me the ultimate suspect for whatever shit. And what's with all the ransacking of his room and his bags. They don't get what I mean by they're pushing him to a corner huh. What's with all the take-his-handphone-and-copy-his-sim-card-while-he-isn't-looking. Huh. He's 13 years older than me. Why doesn't he get the freedom I do.

Get me. I'm as much "rebellious" as he is. Why won't everyone believe me. He's not a kid that needs counselling. If there's one in the household, the most probable one is me. Yes, me. He hasn't even strayed. He smoked, yea, so what. He doesn't in the house. He did his best not to let you know. He even kept his lighters away. Why. Because he knows what he's doing. He knows smoking is bad for health but he does it occasionally to let off stress. He doesn't smoke much. He doesn't even look like someone who smokes. He doesn't want you to know. He knows you'll think otherwise. He knows you'll start to worry that he's become a bad boy. Then what. You found a lighter in his bag. You asked him. He could have said it was for a bbq. But he didn't. He didn't lie. He told the truth. And look at how everyone thinks he's bad to the core. Yes, he tells me.

What's this. Yes I'm defending him. I'm defending him like how he defended me when I quarrelled with my father. I'm perhaps as angry and frustrated as he is right now. Why. I understand. And the acute sense called instinct tells me every single bit of content they are discussing even if I don't have to hear it. I know what they're saying. I want to say what I think, what he thinks. But I'm sick of hearing them say I've been brainwashed, influenced, whatever. I'm sick of having to be the girl to hit the books instead of meddling with such affairs. Like, whatever. You act like everything's alright. I act like I'm the dumb girl who doesn't know anything. It suits you fine, fine.

And this bloody sense of wanting to get out in me was what he got too. Was what drove him out too.

I tried looking at everything from another angle. I tried. I tried settling myself, being calm, trying my best to analyse every single bit of detail, every action, every comment, and see if I can detect any emotion that comes with it. I tried to tell myself that parental love is still intact. I tried. As much as I want to believe it, I can't. And the truth sinks in. Like a part of my heart has been ripped away from me.

Two things in this world drives me crazy. One is worms, the other is messy situations which I absolutely have no control over. Worse still, messy situations which I'm not entitled to bother about in the first place. Right. Why don't you leave the discussions to 3am. I won't give a damn then.

Emotionally unstable, currently. I warn, do not attempt to come close whatsoever. I bite.

Wait till it all blows over. Oh wait. That is like, never. Alright. Forget it. Take it I never said anything.