Day 3 - Your parents

Before you go on reading, be mentally prepared 'cause it's gonna be wordy and lengthy.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Perhaps you'll read this if you've been stalking my Facebook, perhaps you wouldn't, but here goes. I write about both of you in my essays very frequently, although my stories are usually emo nemo teamo supremo elmo (quoted from Bert). I cheer quietly in my heart whenever a topic that I can relate to both of you comes out, because all it requires me to do is to write a recount of myself, because I know how it feels like to deal with parents like you.

There's this phrase that I never fail to use: "If that is what he wants and what she wants, then why is there so much pain?" I can never agree more to it. It's a line from the song Stay Together For The Kids - Blink 182. I get inspired by songs all the time. Don't ask me why.

Quarrels are common between couples, but I take your quarrels as the end of my world. I think a lot, in fact too much, but for the wrong reasons 'cause I don't apply my thinking to my work. I get disheartened over your quarrels more than you yourselves do. I cry at the sound of your harsh words hurled at each other. I doubt you even shed a tear. Rather than fix the problem, you never solve them. It makes no sense at all. The problems accumulate, so I wonder when it'll all finally blow up one day.

At times I wonder, why should I try to fix things I didn't create or contrive? I've attempted a couple of times to salvage the gap between us all. Talking face to face is awkward, and I'd only end up choking on my tears, so I tried communicating with Mom via letters. I didn't need to do so for Dad 'cause he automatically approached me to rant whenever he needed to. She promised they'd solve the problems themselves so I wouldn't need to worry about it and neglect my studies, but the problems continued coming in. I gave up trying to do anything, but I cross my fingers and I'll have faith that you both still love each other dearly.

Dear Dad,

I'll never forget the day you flung my whole portable table of homework against the wall just 'cause you wanted me to plan a timetable first, and the way you slapped me so tightly and called me a cheebye. 'Shit' was a crude enough word for me then. I only dared to call it 'the S word'. You didn't even bother censoring the word or at the least call it 'the C word'. You just said it out. I was only twelve. I can forgive, but to forget? I don't think so. But I'll never forget how you unneccessarily wake up so early in the morning everyday just to send Pris and I to school. I'll never forget how you'd always rush home to retrieve my things and then back to school again to pass them to me just because of my forgetfulness. I'll never forget how you'd always sneakily buy me my favourite food even though Mom forbade me from eating 'em. I'll never forget how you'd always counter Mom's critical comments on me and tell her in her face that it's my life. I'll never forget that fateful afternoon when I got so terrified 'cause I thought an Indian man was stalking me although he merely happened to be walking in my direction and you drove all the way back home from work just to "protect" me and bring me to the police station to buy me a safety alarm which cost a bomb. So let's just say that the equation's balanced now. I still glad that you're my dad.

Dear Mom,

I can never ask for a better mom than you. You work and you do the housechore at the same time. All normal human beings have a pair of hands, but you make use of yours more than anyone else does. You can cook better than anyone can and because of that, I've never liked dining out 'cause I prefer homecooked food. You are a perfectionist. You completed my projects whenever I fell asleep doing so 'cause you didn't like things being incomplete. You text me virtual kisses whenever I apologise for venting my anger on you despite my intolerant behaviour. Although I do admit that I dislike the fact that you disrespect my choices most of the times, you gave me what most others don't have - Freedom. Much, much more freedom. You make the lamest jokes and do the stupidest things everyday, but that's what makes you "cool". I wouldn't want a workaholic/stone as a mom. You are my Heroine.

Things have changed. I've learnt to stop thinking so much. Perhaps that explains my deteriorating results, eh? Nah, just kidding. I love my mom and dad more than before, because they've proved me wrong that all parents do nothing but vent their anger on their kids and that all parents do not love their children, 'cause they do love me and they've never stopped loving me even when I've been at my worst behaviour. For that, I am thankful.

My mom just asked about my studies without nagging and my dad just bought me cream puff. See what I mean? :)

Dear Mom and Dad, I love you always.