Homeless

I thought this vacation would do me great because I could finally freshen up and rest. Especially after last semester.

But nothing went right the past few days. The past weeks. And I’m beginning to think I’m better off away from home. I realized that seeing my siblings once in a while is a whole lot better than living with them. My life is in constant chaos. I’m emotionally fucking up, and I’m getting really, really, bad. Again. So I resort to writing. At least this calms me down a bit. Although I’m not really sure about what I’m writing.

Last night I exploded.

I cleaned the fridge before preparing my own dinner because I didn’t like what’s prepared. I was talking to mom on Skype, while reading a book, when my eldest sister stormed the room and began asking me about her retainers. And then she mentioned about the fridge and shit and hastily blamed me for her lost retainers. And began cursing at me. What the fucking hell even. I told her I checked the goddamn bags before throwing them away, because I took note of her retainers. She muttered something before slamming the door close. I can still hear her grumbling then. Mom did not hear anything. She left to get something, leaving her earphones plugged. I sent her a message and told her what happened. My eldest sister went inside the room. Fast forward. I began shouting. Uncontrollably. I lost my temper. She kept calling me derogatory terms, and I continuously shot back by repeatedly calling her a bastard. I was exploding. Literally. And that was the first time in a long time. I did not cry though. But my voice was shaking. I was shouting at her wide eyed. My two sisters interfered and they ended up fighting as well. Mom couldn’t get in between us. My sister said she wanted to beat me up. Then she started crying. I went too far. I said something considered taboo among us siblings. But I lost it. I wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt me. I put on my earphones because I didn’t want to listen to her and her stupid drama—I didn’t want to listen to that conversation with Mom. Of course she’d justify herself. Of course this is going to be one-sided, because I rarely talk about my side. I know I’d come out at fault here anyway because I made her cry, and I crossed the line. Mom knows I say the most hurtful things. I didn’t want—or need—to explain. Who’d listen? Who’d believe me? Besides I’ve basically established an image in the family—at least to Mom’s eyes—the one with an antagonistic disposition. I was too different. And it wasn’t in a good sense. At least to me. It was 5am. Mom baded goodbye, my sister shut down the laptop. I was on my bed with my book and laptop, loud music blasting my ears. I was still staring at the page where I stopped, reading the same lines over and over. I couldn’t understand anything. My two other sisters were already asleep. The eldest was headed to bed. I continued reading. I didn’t want to think of anything. I finished the book at around 7am. I switched my laptop off, which was on for no reason. I removed my earphones. I stared into the darkness. Fuck it. Everything my eldest sister said flashed back in. And it dawned on me. They didn’t like me here. In fact, they prefer me being away. It makes sense. Whenever I come back, I only have Baro to welcome me. I thought I was beginning to be less bad, beginning to like my siblings. I was happy with my family. All content and grateful.  I thought they started liking me too. And then this happened. In an instant, I went back to square one. I guess everything I believed in were merely in my head. My hatred towards them resurfaced. Lies. Everything Mom relayed to me about them began shaping into lies. I cried. Only for a while. I stayed on my bed the next morning. They were helping my cousin repaint our walls in the living room. I went out and chitchatted with my two other sisters. The eldest was out to buy paint. I went back to the room. Checked my phone, found three messages from Mom. Reprimanding me. Told me to apologize. Obviously I didn’t, and I had no plans to. Hours later, all of them were painting. I was still in the room. I went out, and turned out I was only a nuisance. I couldn’t help them, I have other plans. I needed to take a bath, but my younger sister was painting the door in the bathroom. She started acting annoyed when I asked her to step aside. My other sister too, because plainly I was being a bother, and I wasn’t even helping. I took a bath anyway. Went back to the room. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I packed my stuff, all set to head to my boarding house to stay there. Tears dripped down my cheeks. I worked my way out anyway. I didn’t say bye to anyone. When I was already headed for the gate, the second to the eldest called me and asked where I’m headed. I muttered ‘basta’ and hurried away. I went back home anyway. Fast forward. I’m on my bed, typing this in the dark, they were all in the living room. Talking to Mom. Happy.

No place like home? Yeah right.

I guess I don’t have one.

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Okay

What else could feel better than this?

Than being able to brush you off without feeling any sort of guilt
Than being able to go through days without thinking about your stupid face
Than being able to look at you without feeling a lump in the throat

Than being able to stick around despite your absence
Than being able to be just who I am regardless of your presence

Than being able to not feel anything.

I feel free.

And I’m kinda hoping that’s synonymous with happy.