GIVE ME THERAPY, I'M A WALKING TRAVESTY.

twentythree y.o. geographer, barista, yoga practitioner. University College London. born and bred in the lil' island of Singapore. constantly searching for answers. extremely flawed, especially when it comes to imposing standards on others, expecting too much, not knowing when to close her mouth (to shut the fuck up or to stop eating). too crazy for her own good and has to be taken with a massive handful of salt. adores backpacking, hitch-hiking, hill-walking, red wine, whiskey, cocktails, fine food and good conversations.
REMINDER:
"open your heart. someone will come. someone will come for you. but you'd have to open your heart first."


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Sunday, May 05, 2013
◔ 4:01 PM // ✎ 0 comment(s)		❝ Fuck you. ❞

It has been a long time since I last poured tears like this - and this was such a big thing that it required a post on it.
I don't know what to start with first, the failure of my father or the problems with technology.
My brother and father are fighting just three metres below me. For a fucking stupid reason, something that I will never grasp - technology.
The Internet just had to go down when my father is around, and when my brother is having examinations.
My father became irritated and angsty, my brother, the only one that has the knowledge to fix, tried very hard to think of solutions, even when he is in the midst of his common tests.
It didn't help that they both had terrible tempers.
Then, while I was reading upstairs, they started fighting. Loud, terse voices audible from two levels up. A sound wave of higher frequency joined in. I ran down, to find out that my brother fixed the Internet.
Walking into the store room, I witnessed my brother ripping out wires from the modem. I stuck out a hand, stroking my brother's upper arm.
My father's voice roared from behind. Large, broad steps approached my brother. He demanded to speak with his son. My mother immediately wrapped her arms around him, protecting him like any mother would when her child is in threat. The man demanded that she let go of him. I myself flung my body against my brother's, holding that hulking body in my hands. I felt wetness in my eyes, I cooed, "don't cry Kai, don't cry..." and I felt tear drops flowing down my face.
The man demanded that we all leave. We kept ourselves around him. He forced us to leave.
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

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