New Year's Eve

Note: I wrote this on a paper on 31 december 2004 at 9.56pm.

So the ending wasn't as i had expected. Happy.

Had a quarrel with mom over my dripping water on the floor while scrubbing potatoes. Huge quarrel. She misunderstood me. I had really forgotten. You know how it's like when it's just so natural to do something, which was holding the scrub while taking the potatoes to the sink then. And she didn't believe me when i told her that.

So now here i am in my room alone with the door closed writing this entry. I write this now because the computer is out of bounds and i know i'll probably never ever write this if i don't do it now. There's a bbq outside but i don't wanna leave this room 'cause i don't want the rest to know i'm awake. My mom actually caught me just now and asked me to go out and ear but i didn't want to so i just said, "i don't want". I didn't feel like facing her. Not then.

I hate that my tears drop so easily. Worse of all, i hate that it's almost always because of my mom. What no one actually knows is i actually thought suicide before but just do not have the courage to do so. Damn my character! Ha i guess everyone knows now. Who cares?

I really admire what my sister, sarah, said to my mom just now. She scolded my mom, can you believe it? I wish i have her courage and strength. Strength literally lol..

Updated:
So i did come out after all. To eat a lil at around 10+. Mom was by then alright but i was still a lil uncomfortable. The bbq flopped. 2 of my cousins and family didn't come. Another family came late. Sarah went out to meet her friend. The whole thing was pretty dead. There was no countdown. In a sentence, it sorta sucked. Lol..

I am a 24 year old working adult on the verge of slipping into a quarter-life crisis. Wanderlust has hit me and I am trying to figure out how to be a long-term traveller. This space documents my experiences since I was a 17 year old student and is also an outlet for the thoughts swimming in my head.

Stumble on her tumblr @ crappler.tumblr.com.

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