» Monday, November 28, 2011 / -7:33 AM

The last thing I want to do is break my promises made with dad and Patrick.

Yes, I'm aware I'm a monster.

I am unruly, ignorant and uncontrollable. I act upon impulse whenever I feel like it, where ever I want sometimes. But what kind of monster will it make me that made people think I would raise my hands against my mother? A good-for-nothing monster. If people say I am that kind of a monster, then I do not even deserve to be called a monster because even monsters would know better.

They say knowledge is power.

Now, I can tell you, knowledge is bull. The more you know, the harder it is to survive in this household. Psychology taught me that no parent should ever, ever be violent against their child. That abused kids only understand one word commands. Of course, that is in an individualistic culture's context. In a collectivist context, that's just tough love. Studies have shown that Asian children whom grew up with autonomy parenting style strive for affection, thus, being overachievers. They know their parents love them. Knowledge taught me, humans need motivation to know that they are doing well. To feel appreciated.

How does it all link?

It started on Sunday because I did not dry the clothes. As I was cooking earlier, I noticed the stench and made a mental note to wash it when the maid is almost done with her chores so she can dry it later and so it does not stink again. My mother was complaining about it when she got home. According to her, she sent me a message the day before to dry it and she went into the toilet while I was eating my lunch. A message that I did not receive but I did not find out about this until much later. I told her I was asleep the whole day before and did not notice her message. She proceeded to say that if we do not want to help out, everyone should just do their own things. She continued nagging on how no one helped her. It was unfair to me because I have helped out on several occasions, thus, I voiced out my discomfort of her statement. I asked her what does she mean by "not helping out" and stated that I did help out. That must have came out rude to her because apparently, she took it offensively and told me to list down the things that I helped out with. I kept quiet for a bit. A dilemma was boiling up in me; to just be quiet and deal with this again and again, or not? She insisted that I list everything.

I began listing down things out of anger.

Things such as opening the doors for the maid, despite needing to wake up earlier than my usual time because she's never around when she calls for the temporary maids, washing and drying the clothes when I notice the huge pile, folding them, helped her fold them when I was just going to get water, clean the floor whenever she asked me to, even cooked and offered to pack food for the family, washed the dog (she'll just say the dog is my responsibility) and even scrubbed the toilet occasionally. The things that I have never done prior to Aini's departure. Lo and behold, she started assuming that I was complaining that I had to do those things. That I NEVER do anything on my own will. That I am not being appreciative of the things she had done for us, that I should not even complain because I have it better than anyone else. THAT I DID NOT DO ALL OF THOSE RECENTLY. Of course I have not. Being particularly tied up with college is not what I want to either, especially with the assignments due.

The issue was wanting to feel appreciated, even the slightest.

The issue to her was a lament of needing to do all these things. That I do not want to do it. She went on yelling about if that's the case that I should just clean and fold my own things while walking out of the dining room. Being so filled with rage, I just yelled back that I would. If what I'm doing isn't appreciated, then why bother? It's the same as cleaning my own things only. She walked back in, with a finger pointed to my face, told me to shut up. SHUT UP! The words I hear countless times while growing up. "SHUT UP. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU CRYING." "SHUT UP, YOU KNOW YOU SULKED." "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP."

No.

I would not shut up. She came closer, an effort to intimidate me in my seat. She repeated herself; to shut up. Looking at her and her actions, a shot of distaste spread within myself. What's the difference between the way she disciplines the dog and the way she tries to discipline me? I'm not a dog. All it takes was for you to tell me my mistakes in a calm manner. To rebut that, she said she's the one that provides me with food, clothes and shelter, so she has every right to command me to shut up. I stood up, wary that if I argue anymore, what comes next is a slap. And if I were to continue, there will be more to come. It's funny how it is so predictable. What was funnier was self defense became offensive. I slapped her. Notice the sarcasm. She has scratches on her arms. I have scratches on my face. Sure, I slapped her. Ivan walked out and went by her side immediately. Yes, I have made that kind of image where I would be the one that goes out on my way to hurt her all the time.

Knowledge taught me one thing.

Nature or nurture: either way, it is still the parents' fault. Dad was absent through most of my development since they divorced, taking Ivan with him, and I'm left with this violent household. I'm not blaming anyone, that is just how it has to be. At the age of 8 to 13, some nights were just pure nightmare, having to deal with the arguments between her and her husband. If she says I am the monster that would lay my hands on her, it would just intrigue me as much, as it takes a monster to breed a monster. It took a mad scientist to create Frankenstein. All those slaps, beatings and that very night being locked up in the room for something I did not do. Don't you think that show that VIOLENCE solves things?

Violence is a notorious cycle.

A cycle passed from one generation to another. Violence was passed on by my aunt and uncle to my mom and I fear that, one day, I would be one of them and this will be passed on to my kids. Dad says violence is never the solution to anything all the time. There are times where I would tell her that she need not yell at me to get her point across in a calm manner, it got worse. Sure, I am rebellious and I believe strongly in equality and justice, as she taught me. She wanted the system to be more just and fair, yet, she is not being fair herself. They say she is stressed, I should be more understanding, yet it is wrong for me to be stressed, just because I'm younger and supposed to endure all these pile of junk thrown my way. They say I need anger management; I do but what is the point with anger if they had listened to what I had to say in the first place?

Give and take.

I just want to run from this place the first chance I get and it does not matter where.