This is a test. A test of patience, a trial, an obstacle, whatever you wanna call it. It's thrown right at me from my dear old Father so that I could learn something from it, so that I could gain wisdom or something like that. I'm sure of it.
That HAS to be it. It'd be impossible to deal with if that's not the case.
It'd work much better if I'd seen it coming, but I guess that's not how things work most of the time. I just wish I know exactly what's going on and that a solution would just plop right onto my lap, like an instruction book to guide me out of this mess.
But we all know that's not likely to happen so...
I really don't wanna talk about it.
I was quite pleased with myself yesterday coz I'd managed to fix a tag board onto my blog, which is on the left column right now. And I'd finally connected my laptop to my stereo so I can listen to Winamp with my stereo speakers and stuff.
And we just made a pretty enticing dinner for tonight. We wrapped wantons, fried half of them and boiled the others; made some cabbage roll thingy with turkey meat, stir-fried some great-looking kailan, and Firman's bringing soto ayam (whatever that is) over soon.
See. Absolutely no reason to feel sucky at all. And yet...
I hate my sister. Or rather, I hate all the circumstances and people that cause her to act the way she does. If I don't say anything soon I think I'm just gonna run out of this apartment in my PJs and run. Just run and run and run. Away from my unpredictable sister who thinks she doesn't hurt anybody when she's in a bad mood. Away from being stuck in the same room as a tyrannical female Hitler. Away from all these stupid SHIT that's been going on.
So for once I'm not gonna care about what others will think when I speak my mind. Nobody seems to give a damn when THEY wanna speak their mind even though people might get hurt by it. What, am I a rag doll you can tear to pieces just coz you FEEL like it? Or a stupid punching bag you can use to vent out all your anger? Well I can be that actually, just at least tell me the reason you're in such a mood instead of leaving me clueless and unable to help.
And I can't even cry in peace. I can't do ANYTHING but act like everything's fine whilst I cook with May and be all normal and happy when Firman comes by. I can't even friggin' LISTEN to my own songs to take my mind off things without my sister throwing poisonous stares at me.
So basically I'm just left for dead. Or insanity, whichever hits me first.
God, we need to talk.
