Some lowlife scum,
Is using underhand methods to get at me.
If you have a bone to pick with me,
Come look for me,
And leave my baby alone.

Nette,
I didn't mean to be cold to you.
I never meant to take it out on you.
I'm sorry.

You are the only person in this world,
Who can bring me comfort just by your voice.
You alone are my everything.
My dream.
My dreams of a better life together with you.
Living together in our own lil house.
Please take me away from this dreary place.

If asked to describe how they feel towards their parents,
Most people would use the "R" word.
Respect.
Oh yes.
How I feel towards them starts with "R-E" too.
However it spells "r-e-s-e-n-t-m-e-n-t".

I don't know how much longer I have to live with them.
Why do you think I'm always trying to save up,
Because I know money is the key,
To getting away from them.
We don't communicate.
We can't communicate.
We have nothing in common.
In a way,
We despise each other.

You guys can blast me for all you want,
For writing something like that.
It's okay.
You guys don't share my past anyway.
Yeah,
You guys who are friends with your parents.
Anyway I'm not like that.
The word parents mean nothing to me.
It can mean strangers for all I care.

I feel nothing towards them but obligations.
Obligations because they brought me up.
That's all.
What they've done for me,
Can only be measured in monetary terms.
I can boast about how,
I never had a curfew in my life,
How they've basically left me to my own devices,
All the while I was growing up.
They don't know when I was having my PSLE,
My O's,
Or my A's.
They don't know which classes I was in,
Or which course I'm taking now.
It's okay,
I like the freedom,
And I'm not angry because I grew up by myself.
All I can say is that,
I never,
And I will never,
Feel anything more than obligations towards them.

This is no ordinary teenage angst,
The kind of "Oh I hate them cos they're so strict" thing.
It's way past that.
All I know is that,
I hate living with them,
And I want to get away asap.

Someone once asked me,
How could I bear to commit suicide,
And let my parents down.
The answer is simple,
Because they don't mean that much to me.

Can't wait to move out.
Hate living in this house.
Hate seeing the way he throws away everything.
Things that belong to my childhood.
The Tom Sawyer book I read when I was a kid.
Can't stand him.
Can't stand the way he loves throwing things.
All the books,
They are memories to me.
He'll rather sell them to the karung guni for 10 cents per kg.
Just wait till I throw his fucked up,
Space-wasting,
Ugly,
Mosquito-trapping
Pseudo-antique displays away.
Yah.
He only throws away things that don't belong to him.
Fucked up.

I want my own living space.
A place where I can call my own.

Edited the template so that it's similar to I Feel Queasy.
But don't have any interesting pictures to put up yet.