Things I always hear: ‘But she’s your mother.’ ‘Family is like that one.’ ‘You are the only one she can depend on.’

Do you even know the real me? Can you even fathom how I feel?

I am heartless. I was brought up to be this way. I grew into it. I did not cry at my father’s funeral. I smiled and laughed and talked and entertained. I lost enough tears in my short life over my father. All the insults that I took from him. ‘He does not mean it. He still loves you.’ How do You know? How do you know whether he means each and every barbed word that is flung my way? How do You know? Did you ever live with him in the same house? Were you ever chased out of the house as a toddler? A wailing banshee of a toddler locked outside the house outside the front door? Were you ever slapped in public in a hawker centre before? Were you ever humiliated in front of your friends? Just because he could not sleep because he was pissed off at you, he made good sure that You could not sleep to. He would come into your room to wake you up and condemn you.

I do not value family. I do not see the blood being thicker than water. I cannot fathom how people will let their family get away with murder because My family will not condone it. I do not have much respect for my mother. Unfortunately, this was instilled into me by the royal highness, I must admit. She is silly and brainless and lots of more ugly words you can use to describe a person. Family Ties you down. Family Obligation chokes you.

When was the last time I visited my father at the Buddhist society? Do I feel ashamed? Amazing, I do not. I feel ashamed that I do not feel ashamed. I do things because I have no choice. Because I have an obligation. Do you understand that? If I could, I would run away. Why should I help her? I did not ask her to help me? All the times I tried to be independent. This obligation upsets me. I feel very unwillingly and I end up sore and very pissed off that I have to do this certain things. Things always help up ugly like that always have in this household.

Do you understand? It is okay. I know you are not me. I spent more than some years crying over some boys. I spent half of my life crying myself to sleep because of him. I spent my childhood and teenage years cowing in a corner and worrying for my survival, in fear. I only had them. And when it came time finally when I had other people, I did not cast a second look behind me at them.

But now I am stuck with her. Yes, I can hear you twittering, I am MEAN. But she is my baggage. My obligation. Sometimes I wonder whether I am a rock. I cannot summon any love or affection truly from myself. She squealed in pain from her knee one night recently and I just stood there, I could not bring myself to help her.

I do not want you to understand. I do not even want you to say anything. Just do not say those words that are not true. You are not me. Yes, one day retribution will arrive. And I know. I will be Alone. When that comes, you will not understand me either. I am a bad person and I know it. That is why I try to be good. But it does not come from my heart. No matter how much I try.