Ever had an argument with your parents? Well, duh. No kidding. There's this interesting column in the Sunday Star called the Generation Gap, where people write in to tell of their stories involving said title. Some kids write how alienated they are from their parents, and some parents write how bratty and whatnot kids have become, but some stories are really the heartwarming kind, like how despite their differences, both parties are actually one and alike, and blah blah blah. Awww, so sweet. Anyways, I have known this for a long time, and although I don't usually like to write specific stuff about specific people, especially if they are undesirable traits, I suppose I really must.
Today, I made a rather random statement: I think I won't buy my camera liaoz. Then suddenly my mom got all riled up and said all the normal stuff that parents say to their kids: You know your dad never bought... blah blah blah. So it is my fault that my dad never bought a new car, or never got his own camera until God knows when, or this and that. And I was being ungrateful for complaining about the 6k I got. Wow. If I even knew I said all that by speaking 8 simple words, then imagine when I give presentations. Must be speaking on the creation of life, and the precise historical lines from God knows when.
Now, normally when confronted like this I would shut up, but I was already in the pissed up mood I was since Tuesday, and so I very calmly said: what has that got to do with my not buying the camera? And I got shot back again, something about playing music and understanding tones and whatnot, it's all so confusing. Then something about reading between the lines and being ungrateful (again), and also about not saying what I mean and stuff. It's always like that, and I can't have a normal hypothetical, let alone factual, conversation with my mom. Everything I say is an affront, or is double edged, or something. And when I don't say anything, she says I'm hiding stuff, or avoiding the issue. So I can't win either way.
If I really say what I want to say, then I think I would have tp change my address and name. Because you don't want to really know what I think when I get pissed. I am not a pleasant person normally, and even worse when angry. So I try not to get angry. Also to mention double standards, my sisters can get all pissy and no problem. If I say anything in self-defense, I'm being rude or insurbordinate or something. I can't take it anymore. I need to get out of the house, get a job or something. In fact, the only good thing about the house is my room, and the internet connection. Oh, and the piano. Other than that, I really have no reason to go home at all.
Speaking earlier of money, apparently I was being very ungrateful with the abundant presents given to me. I am of a very good mind to refuse the money now, and keep the Zen only because it was bought with money from a prior agreement. I never asked for the money, and I would rather they bought a gun with it and shot my brains all over my room. Seriously, I was thinking of writing my will, leaving my meagre possesions with a few people, then stepping in front of a speeding bus or train or something. It's not really suicide, it's more like intentional accident. That way, I can't technically go to hell for that, now, can I? Well, maybe technical isn't something applicable in heaven, cuz as far as I know, God knows all minds. Sigh. Someone will have to kill me unawares then.
On pancakes, I have no idea why they didn't just throw this one away while it was cooking earlier, so they could work on better pancakes. The batter was already screwed, and yet instead of throwing away crap, they continued to burn it on the stove, when they really shoulda just made better pancakes and paid more attention to them. Sigh. Useless as a genetic sample, worthless as a physical sample, pointless as a mental sample, and fucked fucked fucked as an emotional sample. I don't know why I bother. As far as I can see, my continued existence will only bring me to pointless and worthless work for the next 3 decades or so, then I will just die in old age, alone and worthless. I cannot fathom why people want to live so long. To see the world? Why? Nothing lasting about seing every fucking monument in the world. Sigh.
Life ends the moment you become an adult. That means I have about 4 more days to live. I hope that physical death accompanies it, really. That would settle all this money issues and ungratefulness issues, and also issues that I'm no longer some people's friends, and also issues about not pulling my own weight around, and a multitude of issues. I just wanna say, like I have said before, I am not the right person to come for help. You will be better off without me. Sure, I try to better those I can before I go, but in retrospect, you will do better without me. For those I help give wings, thank you for making my life that bit more meaningful. Now I can die with one less regret.
I only have one real regret. Ever being alive. How nice to have been a miscarriage. That way, I'm sure to end up in heaven. How nice to have been stillborn. I would have ended up in heaven. How nice never to have existed. Then I would never have to take up space in heaven. And better still, I woulda made way for someone more deserving to take my place in life. All my friends would have had someone that could give a lot more than I did. All my enemies would have had someone more worthy to fight, or heck, may not even have enemies. My family would have someone more worthy of the attention and love and money to shower on. And the world would have someone greater to take them out of this hellhole they call life.
It's nice to know that people actually come here to read for entertainment. That makes me feel so much better. Gives me reason to use actual spelling, and actual words. Wow. You people are the best. Just as a nice reward, when I die, what would you like me to give you? I don't have much, but I could see to it that you would get what I can offer. That makes passing on so much less a burden. Hmm, as an additional gift, I'm signing up as an organ donor on Wednesday. Need a kidney? Give a gift on my birthday. How splendid. That way, if my premonition is correct, than about err, 5 people will be given the gift of a better life. Hope they can make better use out of this heart than I did.
Love love love. I have stopped loving. Please forgive me, you know who you are. I have to end my emotions, have to end this soul. I'm sure you'll understand. At least it will make you feel less guilty about it all. You have done no wrong my dear, only to let me live that much longer. I want to cry as I write this entry, I want to feel the sharp pain of doing this, but I feel nothing except the grammatical correctness of writing a legible entry. I suppose, in that way, it is suffering knowing I can never love, nor cry, nor feel. I even backspace to correct the order in which I typed that last sentence. It is sheer evil. I have stopped loving, and soon even my hate and malice will end. Soon, even though the body may live, I have a strong hunch that the soul will die, and this time it will not be born again. It will end, and dissipate. The gifts that it arranged from the body will fuel the souls of others, and perhaps it will live through them. That will, perhaps, make the difference.
Must buy PokX a present for putting up with me this long. Hmm, speaking of giving gifts, would anyone like a Zen Micro?
Final Destiny
Packing up my luggage
I know the time has come
To leave this station
To get on the train
Though I have no ticket
And I know not to where
Stepping on the platform
I hand out goodbye gifts
Some are material things
Of holdable and hedonistic joy
Some are pure intagible
Not some physical toy
Some of them are vouchers
To redeem a lifelong present
I get onto the train
There is no turning back
I look out the windows
And see many faces
Some tearing some jeering
Some angry some sad
Some happy and also glad
And I think I see one
Neither laughing nor crying
Neither angry nor sad
And I see it's a mirror
And it's my face set within
As the train chugs away
The people waving their goodbyes
And my ticket appears in my palm
But I refuse to look
To see if it is red or blue
To know it is to see futility
In the hopes that even on this final path
The train might derail
And never let me reach
My final destiny
