It feels weird that even though we are both in the same room, the same living space, we don’t speak to each other. This is despite the fact that we have not seen each other in a few months, and throughout this entire period of absence I believe I only spoke to him once on the phone (and that lasted less than 30 secs too).
No doubt, my family isn’t quite like others. We don’t share secrets, thoughts or problems. But when we finally do “share”, it’s when we really cannot stand each other anymore and are about to blow, resorting to shouting and yelling and name-calling to release the frustration within. Other than that, the adults’ affairs are not to be discussed with the children and us, children, are assumed to have nothing to worry about other than our studies. (Relationships are a big no-no until you leave the grasp of MOE.)
Sometimes I wonder if it’s just me. They seem to communicate perfectly well with my brother and sister. He sends sms-es to them, he asks them on recent happenings, but not me. It’s hard to tell myself “It’s ok, its not your fault” when the facts are so clear and right in my face.
Do parents have to love their children? I remember watching Tyra Bank’s show the other day and a mum was talking about how she wanted to give her daughter up for adoption because she cannot stand her anymore. If such things were morally acceptable in my family, I think I would have been shipped to Uzbekistan as a child prostitute. (Ok, I don’t really know if child prostitution is rampant in Uzbekistan so don’t quote me)
