"Bumibili ka ng Kellogs eh ang umuubos lang naman eh yung anak mong walang trabaho."
I spoke too early about having no burdens to carry around. Now you know there is. This is the reason for my sour mood and suicidal tendencies when it mattered my job. This is the answer for being aloof from everyone these days.
The utol returns home this evening from God knows where. She was out of the house for almost a week. I've heard she was with her Maoist groupies telling fiction that nobody really cares. I can't help but feel sorry for those losers who buy their stories. Imagine, parents selling their souls to put their kids to college. And then these kids, for one reason or another listen to anything that is new - including utol's gospel of a new society. I'm too old for their shit so I don't give a damn. Mother - in her saintly capacity to exercise tolerance - have her blessing to do what the utol pleases. While ours, having grown too cold and distant, felt like being estranged siblings.
I try my best to understand. I would love to mimic my mom's pacifist stance but with my savings hanging by a thread, and with my life slowly being snuffed by pressures from the world, you can't help but feel resentful of the privileges she gets.
It's like she doesn't care at all.
Ranting would not get me anywhere nor showing open hostility when things are already tense. If only she would realize the needs of home over everything else. If only she would think what life would be should fate take me out of the picture. If only she would come to her senses and understand the bigger responsibilities looking after our own blood,
Then this rift would never happen.
The plan was to get as much rest before the week-long toil begins. The mind and the body could not afford another trip in the open. But changes have to be made in the retinue. Much as I would like to patch this rift in the comforts of sleep, our cramped space is not enough for coexistence.
Thus, there is one option left.
I will find solace in the cold and uncaring arms of the night.
