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It is always 12 p.m. when I wake up. Always the afternoon. In my bed that I grew into and the blankets that I was gifted to, I am still alive today.
Alive in this moment that I hope that I can cherish.
Each day I would wake up to parents screaming, yelling about how I always slept in until the Sun was on our roof. Phones are the first eye contact I would make and with people far away is the first conversation of the day. Strangers and friends alike, unlike them that share the same blood.
The shower would depend on the day. Hot water in the blazing heat and cold water in the rainy season. Some can change however they like, but I played no mind. Water is enough, I guess.
My breakfast would be everyone’s lunch. The food that I was supposed to eat hours ago has already gotten cold. I take what I can with my tea and sometimes, I don't even finish it.
I remembered how I was berated. Not eating, wasting money. I am just that picky and I pick what I want to hear and take it with me. I know they mean well but loud noises in the morning are just annoying. So, again, I paid no mind and ate.
Never on the dining table, I always eat in front of my computer. Catching up to the content that I enjoy and just have a good smile every now and then. My door is always locked. I was once threatened for my door to be taken away but it never happened. Somehow, I am glad.
They hate it.
The way I am always in my room. Do my actions mean anything to them? Or is this just a ruse of them being nosy. I doubt it.
They just want me to do something other than laze around.
I admit it. I am the laziest person I know. And the worst person in the house in terms of working.
I don’t sweep my house. I don't even wash the dishes other than my own dishes. Having cats but doesn’t even clean them. I don’t even clean my room.
I admit that I am wrong therefore, I want to leave. Because staying here doesn’t mean my change.
In this house, I am stubborn. Will always be.
But every time there would be a family dinner, I would join. And I always sit on the opposite end of the table. So, every time there is a family dinner, I would be facing the tiger that is my father. The hot-headed, equally stubborn father. Fearmongering on his eyes and voice every time it is about me.
The way he pressed on certain things makes me want to rot in front of his face, and how I wish I could faint every time his words get into my head.
He can never know me. I refuse to let him in.
The thought of opening the gate only for him to respond with useless remarks is just one of the things that I don’t like about him.
And his children too. Especially the one that was born right before me.
“I hate you the most”
If I were to have a chance to write letters to my family before I die, the only thing that I will write on your piece of paper is that.
I can never overshadow you. Every time I have something to show, they won’t pay a single attention while I got overshadowed by you every time when we were younger.
They were angry at you, I can tell. But never boasted about me to you.
Why?
Because you are the only capable son.
Because you are physically strong, a heterosexual and a person who have great things to be talked about.
“It’s good that we have him”
Those words were thrown every time I came to do something that I couldn't but you managed to do it.
Your hot-temper is revolting.
You are the same as him.
Your family can make every single tear-jerking story about him and I would not fucking care.
Not even one bit.
You can’t even see me getting hurt, that’s the worst part of you. Unapologetic.
In people’s eyes, we are a perfectly functional family. But the way that I am not comfortable in this house and wanting to run away, just shows how selfish that I am towards the way I am living in.
To the others that I can never put my blame on, I would put the blame on myself.
Those prayers, time, energy and money that has been for me, I hope you can accept the fact that I am not safe in their arms.
I want to get out of here, I don’t fit in and I don't want to.
The way that a sinner like I am to sit with them feels undeserving.
The prayers and the advice, it was too noisy.
The hug that was done by me, for me, with my own arms. The kiss that I get from smoky bodies in the middle of the night. And the time where I hold my hands together just to feel safe, I don’t want this to go to waste.
I don’t want my suffering, that I went through alone, to be as equal as thinking that I owe you my stay.
You know me first but I know myself better.
And you won’t know about it, until I take my leave.
I really wish that I can be happy. But I know I couldn’t.
The way that I live that makes me invisible to you is something that I did to myself.
So, please, don’t be alarmed when I finally take everything and run.