iHungry

It’s 12a.m. and I’m still not done with the one post that we’re supposed to do for storytelling. I’m sitting here on my bed, contemplating on what to write, and just complaining to Jamie how hungry i was. Today, I ate wedges with cheese, 2 raisin bread slices (which part of it got stolen by lipin), a burger, and fries. If you look at it carefully, I didn’t eat a full meal, except maybe the burger and fries. Anyway, I have just brushed my teeth and I don’t really intend on eating anything else tonight. Jamie and I are on msn, talking about food, and how hungry we were. Both of us have brushed our teeth and don’t intend on getting up and brushing it again. As for me, I’m lying on bed trying to study photography (because I’ve a quiz tomorrow) and I’m lazy to get out. Then, Jamie tells me that she’s going to cook instant noodles. Nooooooo, I was just craving for that! She goes ahead with her cooking and leaves me sitting on my bed, stomach growling, and dying of hunger. After deciding to give up trying to start studying photography, I say goodnight to Jamie and head to sleep.

(insert sleep here)

So now, here I am, in canteen 2, typing out this post, when storytelling class with Leslie is at 9a.m.. Talk about last minute. Canteen 2 has really good waffles. Now, I can finally satisfy my hunger from last night. Any food is awesome when you’re hungry.

Anyway, I hate it  that food is so expensive and that I spend every single cent of my allowance on food. Like now, I’m done with my waffles and I still want to get Octopus Balls, or what they call, Takoyaki. I hate it that whenever I see ice-cream, I would want to buy some. It’s really not my fault that ice cream keeps me happy. Chocolates. Chocolate is chocolate. My studio production lecturer says that. I love chocolates, but not how it makes me fat.

Okay, now for the bottom line of this post. Food is really expensive and I don’t like it that I get hungry all the time. Ironically, I really love food. So, basically, life is weird and you’ve to live with it, just like how weird and random this post of mine is.

Dear Dad,

I came home, stepped into the house, and the first thing that happened, you scolded me. I came home at 10.45p.m., just to get scolded by you. You claimed you were not scolding me, just telling me not to come home so late. You claimed you did not raise your voice until I said, “okay” to your question, “can you come home earlier next time?” Well, that sounds really nice of you, of course, when you put it in such nice terms. Yes Dad, I still think I am at no fault. I informed Mom that I would be home late today. You didn’t care. You told me, “I don’t care who you inform, I don’t want you home so late!” I just finished CCA and came home on an empty stomach just to get scolded by you? Thanks for that slap you gave me too. I was just looking you in the eye. You claimed I was staring at you. I was not staring at you! Isn’t it only polite to look at the person who is talking to you? You were the one who taught me that! I stood there, in the middle of the living room, looking at you. You claimed that I wanted to fight you?! Thanks for walking up to me and strangling me. Thanks Daddy, for all the “love” you’ve showered me.

Every day I come home, afraid to step into the house, not knowing what would happen next. Home? What’s that? Family? Never heard of it. I thought home was where you find love. If that’s true, then this, isn’t home. At least, it’s not mine. Why do you do this? Why do you act the way you act? The other fathers around, they shower their daughters with so much love. Why do I have to be treated this way? What have I done to deserve it?

School seems so much more like home than this place. To me, this place means nothing. All I do here is sleep! I don’t even eat at home. We, this “family”, we don’t even have proper conversations. We’re all home, in our own separate rooms, minding our own business. Maybe this was the reason why I had always put friends over family, school over home.

Since young, you were never there for me. Just think about it, both you and Mom. Since young, since I was born, was I ever cared by the both of you? The only one who really cared for me was Grandma. All the both of you did was work. It was a daily cycle. I was sent to Grandma’s at 7a.m. in the morning, had 3 meals there, brought home at night. Every day, it was the same. Even now, when I’m older, I can be alone at home. But I still choose to stay at Grandma’s sometimes. Why? Others ask. I don’t know how to answer. Why must I stay at my grandmother’s house when I can be at home? The story’s so long that I don’t know how to say it. Maybe it feels more at home there than it does here.

When you slapped me, strangled me, I didn’t feel anything anymore. I didn’t hurt inside. I could have gotten used to it. I don’t know why I cried. Maybe I wished I was somewhere else, away from here.

That night when I lied about having camp, I was out, having fun with friends at Kbox. That night, was the happiest night in my entire life. Carefree. We did nothing bad, nothing against the law. I felt happy just simply because I didn’t have to worry about anything. About you, about Mom, about this life. I had friends all around, I didn’t feel like I needed you anymore.

Dad, one day, I will runaway. I don’t love you. I never really did. If this is how you’re going to continue treating me, you can forget this daughter of yours. I never thought I was your daughter anyways.