Shackled

I thought it was too good to be true. Of course, reality kicks me in the face, and my mother throws her first fit. Just about a week back home. About time I suppose.

We've already had several yelling matches, most ending with me walking away in a huff. I don't understand how this reverse psychology works. She accuses me of being rude and giving too much attitude. She claims I always want to pick a fight, and she has to pick her words really carefully with me. She doesn't even know how to talk to me any more.

It's strange, because I feel the same way. I am in awe, of how I was able to live with her for 12 years without having already killed myself. I mean, I already feel like killing myself after not even two weeks of coming home. In fact, I only ever call this place "home", because I lived here for so long. I've decided the label "home", does not apply here any more. I could care less if I'm homeless, but this is not home.

I remember talking to Tobin in San Diego, texting him that I will be home in ten minutes. He said "Whaaat? You went home?", thinking I went back to Malaysia, when I was very simply referring to returning back to the dorm. Thinking about it now, the suite felt more like home, than this house in Penang ever did.

I've never felt scared of the suite. I like coming back after a long day, just relaxing in the common room, or lounging in my room. It was comfortable, and I'm always surrounded by my friends. If I'm upset, I can leave whenever to clear my head, but I always return eventually, feeling a little better inside.

Here, I'm in a prison. I'm bounded to this area, because I can't, or rather, am not allowed to drive, and the bus system barely exists where I live. I can't walk anywhere, because there's nothing within a 10 mile radius. I can barely leave home without permission, except to go exercising within the apartment. After some fights, I can barely stand to be on the same floor with my parents, and I can only be thankful we have two floors.

I have never felt more thankful for my parents. They pay for everything that I do. I've barely worked before, and I never provide for myself. I only wish we got along better. To think I have another three months here fills me with dread. If I wasn't waiting for you to come back, I would have left. Where, I wouldn't know, but I would have left. Come back, please.