Sitting, Hiding, Waiting, Wishing

To be honest, I didn't really want to go back home today. After my wisdom tooth consultation, I had planned for heading straight back to Berkeley, struggling successfully at Land, seeing Dhouse people and waiting until the weekend to deal with the it but my parents had already planned for me to stay over and probably looked forward to it, judging on how dinner was like today. It's usually hard when my parents and I see my grandparents come back from HK, after weeks and months of peace and quiet slowly begin to turn to anger and resentment- at least between my dad and grandfather. Back then, things were really bad. If felt as if my parents and I were under constant surveillance by my grandfather and any little 'slip up' would result into an argument that would last for hours on end. As a result, I started to hide in my room more from middle through high school to avoid the conflicts. It was pretty much my sanctuary where I was able lay on my bed and look up at the glow-in-the-dark stars or go through the window onto the roof to get fresh air while music would blast through the speakers of the computer. Yeah. Pretty emo. That 'sanctuary' allowed me to keep things to myself without the need to cause any more conflicts while the computer was the only outlet for any resentment. Things are a lot better now on the surface (probably after a particular incident during the summer before attending Cal) but everytime I come and find my grandparents are back, there's always these repressed memories and just. sadness of what had happened before. I don't talk to my grandfather at all. Hell. We don't even acknowledge each other. I always greet my grandma and upon seeing him, just walk away and forget he was ever there. Actually, with the exception of my sister, nobody acknowledges him. Yeah, terrible, sad and disrespectful, I know. but when it comes to these things, it's just better for us to forget about each other. For me, it's just hard to move on. It's getting better now and I wish I had the courage to speak up at home but it's hard. What use to be a man who, in my eyes was big and extremely scary is now becoming older. weaker and smaller and I still have yet to overcome that fear that keeps me silent.

It's all about taking one step at a time, though I hope that time isn't running out.

On another note, I got the chance to make potstickers from scratch today. woot