The next morning, I woke up at 12 noon and sure enough, dad was furious about us waking up late and everything that we did seemed to be wrong in his eyes. "Clean up the room, wash the dishes, do the laundry," he said. I was with my sister, the birthday girl, when my dad called her down to have her breakfast. He passed her the kuih2 he bought and my sister grabbed it and put it on the dining table and straight away came back to the living room, where I was. My dad got angry as she just laid the food there, like she's trying to be generous to the flies, instead of putting it under the covers. Then, she yelled back at him and the fight begun. They argued over that and sad enough, I was there and could do nothing about it. He later then left feeling at his worst. I pictured myself to be in my sister's shoes and because I've had arguments like this before with my dad, my tears ran down, regretting those moments.
When I recall those moments, I've tons of times have these kinda thoughts:
- It's better to live in hell than a home like this.
- Shut up, will u?!
- U go die la~
- I hate u so much that I feel like killing u.
Thinking back on times like that, I feel so bad and ashamed with myself. Even as I'm typing everything here, I think, I'm having glassy eyes now. All I can say is that, I love my parents, very VERY very much.