(of stars) that never fall from the sky.

In Retrospect; Parents.

Today, my parents had a fight, although it was mostly my father getting angry at my mom over something incredibly petty. Just because something didn’t go his was exactly as he wanted, he reacted like a child and literally forbade my mother from coming into their room for the entire day, until now.

My heart is hurting so much for my mother; partly out of sympathy for having to deal with such immaturity and selfishness, mostly because I keep thinking about all the times I was such a little selfish bitch and gave my mom so much grief.

Thinking about how she has to deal with my temperamental father, all my previous actions seem like the shittiest icing on the cake.

On that thought, I just want to treat my mother the way she deserves to be treated. No matter how many times we clash, I have to learn how to be the daughter she deserves to have; one that supports her, helps her, loves her with all her breath.

My mother deserves so much that I gave; and it’s about time I did something about that.

Parents, man.

Why can’t you just get it done? Your dad always does what you ask of him; it’s considered done. Why can’t you be the same?


News flash, mother. I am not my father. Neither is my brother.

I know that I am not the first teenager to experience this. Having to live up to unrealistic expectations, having to deal with overbearing parents about how high they want you to jump and you just can’t make that cut.

On that note of getting things done, I do get things done, thank you very much. It may not be as instantaneous as my father would like or would have done, but it is getting done. Over something as petty and as little as music he doesn’t even urgently need but simply wants for listening pleasure, I’m fucking appalled that he has to bite my head off over it.

Sometimes I wish I could just confront him about it and say, you really aren’t even mad over it, are you? You’re using me, once again, as a scapegoat for all your frustrations with other things that have built up.

I wish I could just take it in and swallow it down, but I’m sorry if I happen to choke on hypocritical actions.

As usual, I have to keep silent. We live in a society wherein parents have absolute power over their children; this surpasses the test of time, and no matter what age you are, your parent’s word is law.

They are always right and you are wrong. No matter how illogical, impractical; THEY ARE RIGHT AND YOU ARE DEAD WRONG.

Great world to live in, yeah?

The Christmas version of the Angry Birds seems like the perfect mood setting for me at the moment. Onward, march. Parents: You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them. I think this age old saying has been proven time and time again in my life, and tonight seems to just push that saying into a fact. I’m extremely volatile right now, my hands are literally shaking as I type and the amount of typos that’s happening is enough to make the grammar/spelling nazi in me shriek in even more frustration. I love my parents, so much. More than words can ever give enough justice to. That’s only a fraction of how much I love my parents. But. Butbutbut. There are times when even I have to question their reasoning and logic (at their age, I never thought it would be possible but alas, it is). When you are wrong, it is only reasonable that you admit that YOU were wrong and committed an error, correct? That’s what logic dictates, along with honesty and humility. Well, according to my parents, it’s WRONG. They play off their mistakes as if it’s nothing at all and who has to deal with the bullshit that comes with it? Me. I’m their freaking scapegoat/soundboard/punching bag of a daughter that has to take all the crap because of the very reason that I came out of my mother’s vagina after the creation of an embryo from her egg and his sperm. That I am their BLOOD does it make me designated masochist. I was told once that no matter what happens, your parents are always right. They are your parents, you respect their decisions and reasons. No matter what. No matter how illogical, no matter how unreasonable. It is because they are YOUR PARENTS that you swallow your pride every single time and just take it. I love my parents, but at instances where their pride destroys every fabric of common sense, I can’t help but think that I’m more mature than them in that aspect. That I can push aside my mule-headedness, my PRIDE and admit that I was wrong and do whatever the hell I can to fix my mistake, I feel that I AM mature. When it reaches the point that you let your pride stop you from fixing a mistake or doing the right thing, THAT is an example of immaturity. Mom, Dad, I love you, I really do. But please, you are not perfect. Really, I’ve known that for a while now and it’s not making me adore you/think of you less as my role models. So please, for the love of God, please. Admit you are wrong once in a while. It won’t kill you. In fact, it will make me love you and respect you more than ever; it will make me think that you are the closest things to perfect because you show that you are imperfect. /rant over/

The Christmas version of the Angry Birds seems like the perfect mood setting for me at the moment. Onward, march.

Parents: You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.

I think this age old saying has been proven time and time again in my life, and tonight seems to just push that saying into a fact. I’m extremely volatile right now, my hands are literally shaking as I type and the amount of typos that’s happening is enough to make the grammar/spelling nazi in me shriek in even more frustration.

I love my parents, so much. More than words can ever give enough justice to. That’s only a fraction of how much I love my parents.

But. Butbutbut.

There are times when even I have to question their reasoning and logic (at their age, I never thought it would be possible but alas, it is).

When you are wrong, it is only reasonable that you admit that YOU were wrong and committed an error, correct? That’s what logic dictates, along with honesty and humility.

Well, according to my parents, it’s WRONG.

They play off their mistakes as if it’s nothing at all and who has to deal with the bullshit that comes with it? Me. I’m their freaking scapegoat/soundboard/punching bag of a daughter that has to take all the crap because of the very reason that I came out of my mother’s vagina after the creation of an embryo from her egg and his sperm. That I am their BLOOD does it make me designated masochist.

I was told once that no matter what happens, your parents are always right. They are your parents, you respect their decisions and reasons. No matter what. No matter how illogical, no matter how unreasonable. It is because they are YOUR PARENTS that you swallow your pride every single time and just take it.

I love my parents, but at instances where their pride destroys every fabric of common sense, I can’t help but think that I’m more mature than them in that aspect.

That I can push aside my mule-headedness, my PRIDE and admit that I was wrong and do whatever the hell I can to fix my mistake, I feel that I AM mature.

When it reaches the point that you let your pride stop you from fixing a mistake or doing the right thing, THAT is an example of immaturity.

Mom, Dad, I love you, I really do.

But please, you are not perfect. Really, I’ve known that for a while now and it’s not making me adore you/think of you less as my role models. So please, for the love of God, please.

Admit you are wrong once in a while. It won’t kill you. In fact, it will make me love you and respect you more than ever; it will make me think that you are the closest things to perfect because you show that you are imperfect.

/rant over/