Starvation.

Starvation... In a way, it's both horrible and mysterious. A lot of people are starving right now unwillingly, but at the same time there are also people who willingly starve themselves.

I wrote this in order to take a look at the pain of those who cannot enjoy a good life, and prevent myself from becoming absorbed in worldly matters. Sometimes I do fasting and meditating. The results can pacify my mind.

I consider food as one of the highest privileges. It's scarce. Sometimes I even feel guilty enjoying food, knowing that they are hard to obtain. I am poor, and despite what other people think of me, I often feel reluctant to eat. I never throw myself into gluttony, knowing that I will regret it later. I ration all of my goods so that they will still be there when I need them tomorrow. 

Eating is what humans have to do to survive. It's one of the fundamental human rights. Without it we would've died a painful death. Slowly, with our stomach aching nonstop, we want nothing more than just a speck of rice or one gulp of water that won't even satisfy the hunger.

That being said, I always feel bad for those who are starving. Homeless people, the poor, or those in the middle of conflict. There are different kinds of starvation. Of hunger, of power, of money. Basic human needs that will become disgusting if you indulge in them. Crimes and other depravities are born because of one simple need that becomes bigger and bigger, to the point you want to have it all by yourself. To think that hunger is often born from another kind of (evil) starvation is very ironic.

Right now, I am starving. I'm not allowed to eat by my mother as a punishment, and the kitchen is currently empty. Even if there is food right now, I have to be sneaky just to obtain a little bit of food. I actually still have some money, so I can just go buy something that will suffice with the little money I have. But I'm actually used to this. This is not the first time she has done that to me. And I occasionally practice fasting too. So that will help. Gratefulness or thankfulness for small things really makes me feel hopeful again.

I hope someday I will be fully independent and get out of here.

Hatred

In her eyes, I was never enough. She is always guilt-tripping me, saying that the reason I can live until today is because of her. She thinks everything and anything is thanks to her, she sees herself as some kind of hero who always had to sacrifice her well-being for us. One day I said, "Then you are not actually the hero," and she responded with a good hard slap. What a narcissistic woman. No wonder no man ever had a lasting relationship with her, except for my late surrogate father, who had passed away recently. Even he chose to walk away after a few good years with us. Now that he's truly gone, I don't have a single nice parental figure in my life that is still alive. I have felt abandoned since birth, with those A+ parenting skills my mother had.

Not only me, but my annoying siblings also hated her deep in their hearts. But they liked to play nice in front of her to gain her approval- that also means joining her every time she throws her pitiful, pathetic anger at me. It's always because of some petty reasons, like jealousy or financial issues. Everything is a competition for her. I mean, I was never interested in being in that kind of relationship with anyone, never. I guess I am a lesbian, but I will admit that the reason I withdraw from any kind of relationship is partially because of my mother. She always tries to stop me from having a  relationship with anybody. Even just a simple friendship. I never seek more than that. But then sometimes I did it unintentionally, like she hates it when I just say hi or smile to someone. She immediately thought that I was flirting. Dear lord, no, I wasn't. I'm not trying to get laid. Is that normal for a mother? In the end, I feel disgusted just by the thought of pursuing a meaningful relationship, even though I wanted to (have an equal as a trusted companion).

And I never burden her financially, trust me. I acknowledged the fact that, of course, she supported me financially since birth. But it's just with very basic things, like food. It's a parent's job to raise their children, right? So what's wrong with having to support your child financially? Don't have kids then if you know you can't do that. I never asked my mother to buy things. I'm afraid. She even openly admitted that she hated to support my education, saying that it was all a waste of time and money. Hello? Are you serious, Mom? Do you really want your children to be like you? I think she does, she doesn't want anyone to be better or have a better life than her. That's just how it is. It's like crab trap mentality, you know. "If I can't have it, neither can you," and "If I can't get out, then you can't either." She really tried to drag everyone with her to that dark, bottomless pit.

That's how she is. She declares herself to be a selfless hero, but she thinks she's forced to support her children. Obligated or not, that's what a parent should do: give support. Even though I know that's the norm around the world, I never specifically asked, let alone forced or begged her.

I am not a spoiled child, I always buy my own things with my own frickin' money, dude. She always acts like we owe her anything in this world, meanwhile she has never been a good parent for us. I am a tough person, thanks to that 'military training' she gave. The older I got, the more the physical abuse decreased, but the mental abuse increased.

I was always being some kind of class clown at school. Well, not always, but I am that one kid who knew how to crack a joke in class and make everyone laugh. Or people like to laugh at me for no reason or because of something I'm unaware of. But this is also what I am at the same time. An empty, scattered, hateful kid. That was a self-defense mechanism, I guess. Because I did hope to finally get some true friends and stop being bullied. Because I am that one lone clown who sucks. But guess what? I am still glad I can make people laugh once or twice, but the rest is just a story. It's always the same. I feel pathetic for wanting to have a mere friendship. Partially because at the end, I don't know what to do with them. So the one who distanced himself and walked away is me. I don't want to be betrayed again. They are not really good anyway. But I never regretted it once. Being myself, I mean. It just comes naturally to me, I never faked being a funny cuckleloolander. The thing I hate is I once used that to forcefully follow the herd. How stupid is that?

Like they said, there are things that you better keep to yourself. That's true, even though now and then I sometimes slipped up by being too open and accidentally revealed my own embarrassment. Oversharing unnecessary things just to ease my own loneliness and self-hatred. Constantly seeking for approval unconsciously. Now, I am not exactly an introverted person, despite what a lot of condescending people think. No, it's not a bad thing if one likes to be alone more. But they misunderstood me. I am bold, sometimes too bold. I like to backtalkand get into arguments with authorities. The thing is that I used to keep everything private. I should go back to that. People I know think that being introverted is weak, and a lot of them are masking their own insecurities by forcing themselves to be bold. I don't agree with that. Personally, I think balance is the key, you can be introverted and extroverted at the same time. Why force yourself to become something you are not?

Am I like that too? I think I am. But the truth is, I am a naturally cheeky, rude, and disrespectful kid. I don't even give a single doggy-style damn. I had beefs with a lot of people, including teachers, classmates, and family. Dumb people that I don't respect at all in general.

I hated my own current situation and wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. This FUBAR (f_ed up beyond all recognition) small town with stupid people in it. There is no one I can trust, they always betrayed me at the end. I'm better off alone. 

His Funeral

Warning: another post full of grammatical errors and self-pity.

Yesterday morning was Mr. D's funeral. I had to go to school because my mom didn't let me tag along with her. I did have three exams that day, but I thought the funeral was more important. I keep asking her, but she still refuses. At the end, I did my exams with a mind full of haziness. I already lost two father figures, the first one was my biological dad when I was 7 due to several illnesses. Stupid exams are not what I had in mind. Economy, sociology, art. Didn't matter. My body was in the classroom, but my mind wasn't. It travelled elsewhere, trying to look for something: a location. Where could it be?

Not to mention my bullies were waiting at the school gate both in the morning and after school, with their disgusting snickering faces. They really like to keep this stupid game going, don't they? And that was the last thing I saw before I finally forced myself to walk home. I wonder what they will do if they knew about it. But I don't want them to know, obviously.

Initially I wanted to post this yesterday too. But I was too tired to even lift my finger. I guess I will visit him another day, just by myself. And I know asking for the location, let alone finding it myself, won't be easy. My mom keeps saying that we don't owe him anything, so we don't have to feel sorry for nothing. Even when he's already dead? I don't know what exactly happened between them, so I just keep my mouth shut this time. Still doesn't change the fact that he was a good substitute father for us. So why didn't she allow me to deliver my last regards?

I wanted to be at his funeral so bad. Rest in peace, Mr. Dahlan.

Surrogate Father. (Rest in Peace)

When I was... ten or eleven, in fourth or fifth grade (I don't exactly remember when it started), my mother got close with someone. At first I treated him like everyone else: he was still a stranger, after all. But then everything went well, and shortly, he became a father figure to me.

Ever since my father died when I was just seven, there have been a lot of men in relationships with my mother. They come and go. At first I thought this man would be the same as the others, but he wasn't. The relationship even lasted for three years or so. They broke up when I had just entered junior high school. But that's another story, and I will not elaborate further on that.

Let's just call him Mr. Dahlan. That's his real name, actually. He was our neighbor, we live in the same poor-neighborhood area. He rented his cars for a living, and at that time my mother needed someone to drive my sick sister to the hospital. We don't have any choice but to rent his car, and surprisingly, he offered to drive us to the hospital himself. The same thing often happened again, as my sister's health is not getting any better. She had osteoporosis and bad health in general, so we often went to one hospital after another, we even had to go to some shady alternative/traditional clinics, which, obviously, didn't work (but my mother still believes in those).

This man, unlike any of my mother's ex-boyfriends, didn't only try to be close to her but also to us (her children) as well. He drives me to school and even picks me up every day, joking and playing with us, buying us things, taking us to eat outside, and even cooking/gardening by himself. Yeah, he wasn't embarrassed to help with household chores. He even taught us a thing or two. He was a widower like my widowed mother for a long time, so he used to take care of himself. That's one of the reasons I liked him, and it was like I had a father again. I always knew when a man was not sincere about being a part of our family, and like I said before, he was different. I liked his efforts to try to get along with us, and most importantly, unlike my mother, he was a very patient person. He never got angry at us even when we annoyed him, and he was just a fun guy to be around. I remembered sometimes we liked to just sit together with a cup of coffee in the middle of the night, enjoying the night sky and breeze. Because of him, my mother became a better person too, at least for a while (before they broke up).

Life goes well. My family feels whole again, and my whippersnapper self proudly told my friends that he was my cool new dad (even though he and my mother were never married). Every weekend we went out to eat outside, and he would buy me books, even now in high school, I still like to read all of them fondly. For a brat like me at that time, every little thing meant a lot. And those were such wonderful mementos from him.

Wait, mementos?

Yes, a few years after their breakup, my mother became worse. I tried to assure/convince everyone (including myself) that everything would be ok, but obviously it wouldn't. I was just bullshitting myself through life. It was sad that they had to break up. Their relationship was not short, it was a long journey with many memories. But maybe that was for the better. I know he won't leave us just for some petty reasons. We never spoke again because since then, I have rarely even seen him. I think he moved further from his former house. I don't know the reasons. Maybe he couldn't bear seeing us again. It's disappointing, but I respect his choice. My mother is not an easy woman to be with.

As of today, June 10th, 2022, I got shocking news from my mother. Mr. Dahlan has been hospitalized since yesterday. She said it was a stroke, and he fell into a coma. She said that even the doctor and his family think his chance of surviving is very low. It was so sudden, because I don't remember he had any kind of illnesses or symptoms before. But alas, he was a heavy smoker. Maybe that's what got him in the first place. The last time I saw him was a long time ago, but still, why would such things happen to him so suddenly? What exactly happened to him since he disappeared? I felt sad and wary.

Then a few moments later his family told my mother he was declared brain dead by the hospital. Stroke got him that fast? No way. I wish I had visited him in the hospital. But it's too late. And I don't even know where. I think my mother didn't want me to know where. I feel so stupid. Why didn't I just find out the location myself? I really, really wish I could see him for the last time. I didn't know God would take him so fast.

Rest in peace, dad. Thanks for the good memories, you were truly like a father to me (this is not a pewdiepie joke, shut up).