All That Agony

Yeah, I feel like I should've never come back down south for study vacation. It's only been a week and I remember why I left this fucking place. Fuck my life. I forget way too quickly. Dad's still himself: that is, still a as irritating as ever, and all he ever fucking does is tell me to study harder and ask me random medical things: "do you know the difference between delinear and dementia?" So I say no, I don't know what "delinear" is. Then he smiles like he's won something over me, and taunts me a little because ehhhh I don't know the fucking difference between delinear and dementia. Now you think it's some kind of cute joke that happens in the family--- yeah no, all it does is piss me off.

Especially since he pulls the same thing every 5 minutes.

I didn't feel like replying after a while, because it was fucking annoying--- and you know what, I eventually figured out by "delinear" he in fact meant "delirium" and I DO KNOW THE FUCKING DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DELIRIUM AND DEMENTIA, FUCK YOU. ARGH.

Then there's always the "what are you studying" questions, so I say "I'm studying respiration and what happens to the lungs when we breathe and cough"--- then Dad decides he wants to go on about the brain because breathing is an autonomic function and all he did was repeat the word "pons" over and over again. I could not wait to escape dinner.

Not to mention the fact that they once again fought over when to add the fucking beef into the hot pot. I hate hot pots. My memories of it are horrific. Every single fucking time, an argument erupts over the most most mundane thing ever. And I'm just sitting there, eating, because I hate my life and I'm the only one who's more interested in eating than fighting over random shit.

I hate my life I hate my life I hate my life.