not so calm.

It's almost 11pm and I'm in the exact same spot I was when I wrote my entry earlier this morning. There wasn't a word to describe this disturbance that's just errupted. "Not so calm" just had to do. I've been reading all day. Earlier, I meditated and had a pretty good outlook for the day. I've made a lot of progress with my school work, all was going well...until...

My parents just came home from a night out at a birthday event. My dad came home drunk. Now you have to imagine, a large man who drinks everyday needs to obviously drink alot to become drunk. When they came home, all hopes for a peaceful night were shattered. He cranked up the stereo system downstairs to a particular Bee Gees song which has now played 5 times. I repeat - FIVE time. What's the problem, you ask? So the man likes his music. Well, it's nearly 11pm and the entire house is shaking. I know for certain that the neighbors can hear every work the Bee Gees (and my dad) are singing.

When my mom feels bad for me, she likes to check up on me. She came in, asked how the studying was going. She told me my dad drank alot tonight (quite an understatement) and that the music will stop soon. After the fifth repeat, I closed my eyes and prayed that the music would end. I prayed hard, please please please please please. And it ended. I thanked God at that very moment. Thanked him a hundred times.

My dad turned the music off, stumbled upstairs, banged on my door just to annoy me, and went into his room. He is now talking to the dog, but the dog is no longer in his room. He's also talking to my mom, and she's no longer in the room.

When I was a kid, I used to get so sad when my dad came home drunk. I used to cry in my bed because I didn't really understand why he was acting so strange. When I think about it even now, I get teary-eyed only because those old feeings resurface.

I don't believe alcoholism is a disease. It's shouldn't get that much sympathy. It's a drug that one chooses. The fact that it becomes an addiction doesn't change the fact that initially, it was a conscious choice. [He's still talking to my mom. She's still not in the room.]

I talked to my friend Lisa tonight. She told me, she just can't understand why so many bad things happen to me when I'm such a good person. She says out of all people who deserve pain, I shouldn't be one of them. I thought about it. I can't help but feel like I'm being punished. Punished because I stopped going to church and praying every night and before meals, reading the Bible. And the more I stop caring, the more God punishes me, which makes me stop caring more. A vicious cycle.

I'm frustrated again. Hearing my dad's drunken incoherent voice makes me feel helpless again. I wish I could call my sister or brother, but I can't. I'm still on non-speaking terms with my sister, and I don't want to ruin my brother's birthday night. Damn I'm so fed up. So this blog has become my therapist.

[He finally realized my mom's not in the room. He's yelling for her...]

I'm trying to figure it out. All this time, I've believed I was meant to go to my crappy law school and move home because God wanted me to be with my family. I had been away for six years and at that point, it was time to return. What I can't get is why I was meant to ensure this shit! Is this it? I was meant to come home to suffer!? I justhadn't suffered enough during my childhood, is that it? Now, any plans I have to move out now requires abandoning my mom. My sister keeps saying it's my mom's choice to stay here and remain married with this man. If she were smart enough, my mom would get a divorce. Why do I always feel like I have the weight of the whole world on my shoulders... I can't do anything anymore without make ripples in the water. Every action has a reaction, but why do I care so much...

[Finally, the beast is asleep.]