A Very Depressing Blog Post

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First of all, I am not coming from a broken home family. I considered it a little bit dysfunctional but my family are still together. I just don’t feel the bond the way most non-broken family does, and even though I think it is something to be worried about, I don’t think my parents think the same.

When I was young, my parents were very busy with their business, because they just started up. I practically grew up with nannies. As the firstborn, my parents had a very high expectation towards me, they did the so called the tiger mother parenting style (which later on my life became the inspiration of my dissertation writing). I don’t mind with everything that has been done, because I grew up well, and I achieved many things in my life.

However this came with a price. For me especially, because I realised that my parents had treated me differently from my other younger siblings. I didn’t blame my parents, because you only became parents once, and trial and error is the only way to get things done. I am the prototype of their parenting style. If things went wrong with me, they can always fix it with my other siblings. I don’t hold grudge, but I have my own little bubble.

I love my little bubble.

Unlike my sisters, I love going out with friends when I was in high school. Unlike my sisters, I like trying things that for my parents considered ‘deviant’. I am the only one who smoked among my siblings, and I am pretty sure none of my sisters and brother got drunk as much as I do. I believe they don’t get high like I do, and I know I have healthier sex live than they do. So, I don’t miss anything.

But, after I had a girlfriend (now an ex-gf), they started to think that my little bubble is not good enough for me, and they want to pop my bubble. They invaded my little bubble with personal questions that I don’t even know how to answer it. They pushed in and think that if they popped my little bubble they could just get to know me. They wouldn’t. I know it, no matter how much they believe they would.

I don’t like their intrusive way to get in to my personal life. They were never there before, and I don’t mind if they kept themselves away from my personal life. I feel more comfortable if they never tried to get in. I am alright with that and I dealt with that pretty well. So, why now? Why do they have to force me to open myself to them?

This afternoon my mother said something like: “you have to open yourself to someone and talk about your problem. If you can’t talk to me you may want to talk to your aunt?” What the hell is that?

I can’t even talk to my counselor and she wanted me just to blurted out all my feelings to someone who’s not trained to handle emotional problems? If they look further and read my blog, they might know me better than just asking me “where are you?” and “have you eaten something?”

I am not a suicidal kind of girl, but now every time I got a message from my mother, all I want to do is doing something to injure myself. No kidding. I really want to hurt myself that bad every time she asked me to tell her what’s wrong with me.

I punched door and desk so I can hear the slamming sound even it hurt my hands. I throw my empty bottle collection so that I can hear the crashing sound. And I drink, a lot. I drink a lot I am so scared I will end up with liver failure, or worse… alcoholic.

If only there’s a way to stop her from asking. Sometimes… some people just want to be left alone, don’t they?

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