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I was writing my psychology report... And I was getting somewhere, before my mother came into the room and interrupted me. She wanted me to do her stupid homework for her. Here's context:
One of the main sources of our family disputes comes from Dad being a bitch and looking down on anything to do with physical labor. As a result he rejects all physical activity- yet he wishes to prove his worth as a man. Obviously his standards are a lot different from mine- from what I can tell- him being manly involves him being a dick to everyone around him. Refusal to cook, refusal to do housework, complaining about his workload WHEN HE HAS NO WORK, telling me to manage my time when he is bored, asking me whether I'm under stress- whether I have enough time to do my work- then later on telling me to wash his plates, "instructing" me in his oh-so-fatherly manner about how to do every little fucking thing. The not-cooking and not-cleaning part is tolerable- IF ONLY HE'D SHUT THE FUCK UP. When he isn't occupied he blabbers off with his fat stupid mouth, making thoughtless, ignorant and bigoted remarks. If there's an absolute level of how annoying a person can be, then I'm sure he has breached it.
Because Dad has a phD in something or rather- maybe he has multiple degrees, I don't know- but he feels superior to Mum because of it. In his quest to illuminate all the "uneducated", he forces Mum to study for a qualification. To someone like me getting a certificate is pretty low-standard, requiring no brains. To Mum, who just isn't the sort to study, it is simply suffering. I know she only agreed to do it because Dad wouldn't shut up... he's so controlling about good-for-nothing and OMFG I'M SO MAD. Ergh.
Mum's given this assignment to fill out- most of it requiring research. Research is pretty standard for our generation. Google. Copy. Paste. Thesaurus. Reference. BAM ASSIGNMENT. Easy stuff. Too bad my mother's computer illiterate. She understands solitaire, minesweeper and bubble-shooter. Ever seen those girls at school, who try very hard at everything, spend ages practising, struggling, stressing and crying over things, then come exam time fails certain subjects anyway? That's Mum for ya. Not saying she's stupid, it's just that all this academic crap stresses her out. Yet Dad holds on to it like a religious fanatic would hold on to the Holy Bible.
Mum asks Dad for help, because she fails at research. Dad, wishing to prove his worth and demonstrate his obvious superiority- summons Google by typing "www.google.com.au" in Chrome. If you use Chrome like I do, I think you understand what I'm alluding to. Whilst Dad has the capability of using Google- it seems that he fails to understand the concept of keywords. Whatever he's doing, he doesn't get himself to the right sites. In his frustration, he gets mad and tells Mum to do her own work. Mum, in her frustration, turns to me and tells me to do her work whilst bitching to me about Dad.
Context over- back to the moment where she interrupts me from report writing. I offer to write for her- but she says it would be too obvious because my handwriting is different from hers. So I have to find the right sites, extract the information, type it up for her and wait for her to copy it down. Doesn't take long for me. Wasn't hard. Was just boring as fuck. The most painful part was waiting for her to copy things down. She writes oh-so-slowly in that neat handwriting of hers. I'm sitting here, tired, weary, on the verge of collapse... struggling to stay awake... and she decides to take a phone call from her friend. Won-der-ful.
BLAH BLAH BLAH
Without surprise, I fall asleep whilst she's away, and I'm woken again by her frantic shouting, looking for me. I'm on the bed, ffs. Apparently she came back from the phone call, saw that the door of my room was open- and OMG I WASN'T SITTING AT THE COMPUTER. That was obviously a sufficient reason for panic. In fact she panicked so much she didn't even bother checking whether I was still in the room, she assumed I'd just gone out--- and I was lying face down on my bed, having dozed off when I had only intended a brief rest. I wake up in a state of confusion- unable to make sense of what was happening- all I could understand was a blur of noise and this annoying light. Oh god the light. There's this stupid white light in my room which I hate because it hurts my eyes... and Mum switches it on every time she comes into my room. She had expected me to continue with her homework, now that I'm "awake" again. I stare blankly at my screen for ages, still trying to make sense of the situation. My head feels a splitting pain, and I am forced to shut one eye as if the Sun were directly above me.
Mum urges me to think, to hurry. I look at the time- almost 2 hours had passed since she'd come into my room. Great, I had wanted to write my report for 2 hours and sleep tonight. GUESS THAT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. Oh the pain of cramming a massive report in one night... That'll be tomorrow. Lord. I can't go on like this. My brain refuses to think. All it responds with is PAIN PAIN PAIN YOU'RE IN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN. Even my brain wouldn't shut up. Great. Fucking wonderful. I guess I must have muttered "fuck" under my breath, because the next second Mum exploded.
"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT?"
"I didn't say anything," I mumble sheepishly, hoping she'd let it go. It was too much to hope for.
"I HEARD YOU! WHERE DID YOU LEARN LANGUAGE LIKE THAT? DO YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT AT SCHOOL? WHAT IF IT BECOMES A HABIT FOR YOU? SUCH RUDENESS!"
I guess she would have gone on- but honestly I don't remember what she said afterwards. I'm like... experiencing memory loss. Well, you can't remember what you don't pay attention to, I suppose. Where did I learn language like that? Well, I don't know, but I'm quite sure I started saying that since I was 13. 5 years later, I guess I haven't lost my habit of swearing. Oh well. It's comforting to know that my parents think of me so differently.
My head hurts. Hurts like hell. I didn't know being interrupted from sleep could be this painful. Everything feels so... intrusive. My room is so cold. The lights are too bright. The music's too loud. The sound of my internal voice is too loud. If it had stopped talking though, would I be dead? Whilst my rational mind is telling me that dying is bad, I could almost trade for a moment's peace.
Family. People who are only cognitively aware that you are under stress, whilst having no sympathy towards you. People who do not understand the concept of privacy. People who paint their own illusory image of what you do and who you are. People who do not know when to fucking leave you alone.
Oh whoops. Looks like I said the word fuck again. And just then, again. Well, you know what I wanted to respond with?
"Fuck you. Fuck him, fuck her, fuck everyone and everything around me. Fuck my workload, fuck this world, fuck my entire life. Now fucking leave me alone, because I'm going to fucking sleep and you're not going to fucking wake me."
Or I will bite your face off.
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