Dying in Africa

Parents are supposed to be supportive, right? Question: is fear part of the diplomacy in their expression for love? I have been reflecting back to my childhood lately, questioning why I am the way I think today, now. I believe the childhood a person has, or has not, makes a big impact in their future. I, for one, had no childhood. I didn't have many friends, all my friends were confined in the school ground. I was requested to return home immediately, even though I wished to do gymnastics and debating, which happened to be held after school. No. No TV, no radio, no magazines, and even fictional books were frowned upon sometimes. Once I borrowed a book with a picture of a man kissing a woman, I got grounded for it. I used to want to watch TV so bad, that I'll calculate how much time I have between now and when they come back, and as soon as I turn off the screen, I'd make sure the remote and everything else around it was exactly, and I mean exactly, the position I found it. I used to look for signs of them testing me whether or not I've shifted/ touched e.g., the VHS, remote, magazines, or what nots. Paranoid. I was a kid of 7. I was a thinking machine then. Once I got out of school and I wanted to try Hubba Bubba. I borrowed 50c from a kid, happily got into the newsagent on my way home, bought the damn thing, got out, and saw dad's car honking at me. He had this furious look on him, demanded me to get in, and accused me of stealing the money from his desk. Despite my tears of innocence, no, no, a kid had no place to talk the truths. Only adults know best. That's right. Well fucking hell, I'm an adult now. We moved into a new neighborhood when I was 15; the next door neighbor had a nice pool. I complimented them once I was in the yard, and the lady was nice enough to rock up at our front door the split second, and asked kindly to my mum, "would you like Linda to come to our pool for a swim?" "oh, no, she's too busy". What a shame. As the door closed she screamed my name, and accused me of demanding the neighbor to invite me to their pool for the swim. What the hell? Despite my tears, no, no, a kid had no place to talk the truths. I used to be hit a lot. Once on the face so bad my nose wouldn't stop bleeding. All I remember is being held up in the air somehow and I saw the blood slowly drip down onto the creamy carpet, every dark drop staining the ground, seeping into the fabric and soaking it up into a beautiful blooming flower. It was all in slow motion, I passed out a little, only to be woken up by my mum stopping him. I don't know what it is, anger management may be needed, but when I was being tended by her, he still grabbed my slippers and held it up my face, threatening to slap me again like I was a FUCKING DOG A BITCH LIKE I WAS A DIRTLOWLIFETRASH when I only didn't do my homework. I was a really flexible kid back in Japan, and I loved acrobatics. I was good at it, and I would do it as much as could. But once she came for a surprise visit, saw me, and told the teacher not to let me do it. Is it Satanic or something, or demonic? I have a volcano in me, my will power is strong enough to make it dormant. However, they constantly test me to my limit. "You are so selfish, you never think about your parents, you always think about yourself, can't you put youself in your parents' shoes for once and think and feel for us?" Well, sorry for the past 20 years where I have been doing that, what, enough is never enough. So, you come to me when you need me to see your tears, listen to your woes, I comfort you and give you the damn support you need, manage to keep a fucking open mind to so many things as I treat you as not a parent, but an individual. Don't forget, parents, kids are human too, they can think, they have a fucking brain, respect, dignity and memory. THEY ARE AN INDIVIDUAL. Being a kid is a stage, one day they will too, become an adult, and according to you, that's when they can start to think, right? Well, fuck me if I'm wrong, age has no matter to this after so long. Trust me, you don't ever want to see me explode. So don't you dare cross the fucking line. I can kill. Just forget you read this blog. The world is just as beautiful it should be. Enjoy it. Have a fucking good laugh.