I don’t get how parents do it. I don’t get how you can just let things go when your kid fucks up royally. I don’t get how you have to sit here after a huge argument and love them anyways. I don’t get how to talk to them without putting my feelings above theirs.
They didn’t think about how their decisions would affect me, but now I have to think about theirs when I respond. Fucking unfair. Un-fucking-fair. I’m not grown up enough for this. I haven’t taught myself how not to spew mean words when I’m angry. I don’t know how to do that.
I don’t know how to be patient…bruh, I barely even know how to trust someone’s word when they speak. But I’m having to learn it all within a couple of weeks.
It’s killing me.
Man, I don’t know how many times I bashed my mom for not trying hard enough, but after two weeks I’m over it. Take the twenty-five-year-old child I’ve inherited away.
You know what sucks even more? I’m just sitting here and my head is telling me I can do it and I must persist even if it kills me… because Yuka doesn’t give up, and Yuka doesn’t let herself fail. And Yuka always has to see the godforsaken bright side, thinking everything will get better.
God, positive thinking has done a number on me…and yes, I’m complaining about it. I’m complaining because for it to get any better, it first has to get worse — and worse is just irritating. I don’t know, man, being positive is great and all, but sometimes I wish I could just grovel in my issues and not think every problem has a solution.
What if I just don’t want to fix it? Would I be able to let it go then?