I wasn’t there when he came down with a fever. A high fever of 39.5. Mum was with him the whole time, giving him anti-pyretics, accompanying him to the doctor and subsequently the Emergency Department. He was having signs of thrombocytopenia, and his fever finally subsided with diclofenac. They suspected dengue, but the fever was curbed by the diclofenac.

What was i doing? I was doing what i needed to do to help myself, even if it meant that i was going to be made to do things i didn’t want to. I tried and i tried so hard, my head furiously planning and questioning concurrently as i subjected myself to the whims and fancies of others, and silently chanting repetitively fuck fuck fuck. And there i was worrying how my secret would be uncovered with a phonecall, or if i was going to be held against my will. At the same time, i was worried that something untoward might happen to him while i was caught up with my own business. My phone was running low on battery, and i had to turn it off to conserve battery. It was such a torture, yet i felt quite liberated not having to attend to him.

When i got home, he was afebrile, and has been ever since the visit to the ED. He isn’t happy that he is afebrile. It is so blatant and written all over his face when the thermometer beeps. He wallows in self-pity.

What? He is craving for attention. But i was not about to give him any. He doesn’t deserve any. Nor does my mum. I stick by my rules, that whenever either one of them gets hurt or sick, i do what i need to do, and that’s that. No extra attention, spoiling, pampering, coddling etc. And i do what i need to do sternly. I don’t want to give them the impression that if they are sick or hurt, i will give them the attention they want. None of the sympathy or pity.

I don’t really care if i’m perceived as cold, inhumane, unfilial, whatever. That is what i’ve developed under the conditions that i’ve been growing up in. They laughed when i fell, ignored me when i accidentally hurt myself at home, dismissed my health issues with a wave of their hands, and wrote me off. What would one expect me to do? Be magnanimous and be the opposite of what they were to me? Sorry but i’ve not reached that stage yet.

I’d like to believe that i really do not give a shit about them, but i still do. It’s just that i won’t show it. I won’t give them what they want. They didn’t give me what i needed(not wanted mind you) when i grew up. I want them to feel what it is like to be dismissed and written off, to be ignored when you truly needed the help. To feel what it is like to be emotionally attached and dependent on someone who couldn’t give you what you needed to sustain, and then the subsequent want to break free, because the relationship has become more burdensome than fruitful.

I am aware that i’m stuck in a vicious cycle- they do it to me, i do it to them, and it continues. I am aware that if i take the first step to truly show concern and understanding, they will follow too. But i guess i’m too much of a bitter and hard nut who refuses to budge. Perhaps one day i’ll be able to do so, and i would want to do so too. But not now. I still cannot take it in my stride, that i actually have parents who are as such.


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