"There's a man out there I call 'father'. I don't know why though...I mean, just because he had something to do with my coming into being, just because I got my half set of chromosomes from him, all 23 of them, just because he created me - biologically, just because he happened to be the man who married my mother, just because he was around sometimes while I grew up doesn't give him the privilege of being called 'father'...or does it?? Even my retarded friend cracks jokes about how my dad doesn't give a shit about me. I can't remember a single time he came to my school to pick up my report card, it was always mom, mom and mom. It didn't matter that I stood first in my class, it only mattered when I failed..once, I remember - in maths. It really mattered then!
Yeah, yeah..I know, psychologists call it the 'yearning daughter' syndrome - that's in case you can't come up with the proper clinical term for this 'something' which you can tell I'm obviously suffering from. No matter how many times I tell myself I don't give a shit myself, I can't stop cribbing about my *one and only* dad.
And then, there's that guy who just won't call....
...dreams I used to have, dreams that die young, dreams that turned out to be just dreams after all, never to be realised.
- wishes, prayers...mostly gone.
The forever war waged against the mirror - 'Is that person staring back really me?? Ugh!!' Starring the extra pounds and the extra shiny tears...
Beautiful cast, isn't it?"
31st May 1998
I must've been feeling extremely morbid.
Funny thing is I can't even remember who 'that guy who just won't call' was. And the miserable S.O.B deserves to be forgotten too!
I don't wage that kind of war against inanimate objects like the mirror anymore. I won't pretend I relish seeing my face in the mirror everyday, just that I don't loathe looking into it so much anymore.
I no longer have any hassles calling my father 'father' :-). I like him in fact, now that I've grown to understand him better. I still hate him for passing on the curly-hair gene to me though.
I've learnt that not all dreams have to die out on you, some actually do gloriously come true, eventually!
Tears? I may or may not have cried recently but I don't remember seeing any tears lately :-)
And I still pray, and it still brings me enormous comfort.
Sucking at maths is no longer a cause for concern.
Yep! Growing old is definitely good! If this is what piling on years is all about, and aging going to be about, I think I'm gonna welcome greys on my head and wrinkles on my skin. I believe I could easily grow old graciously.