Today is supposed to be a special day. Typhoon Danas is approaching, but it’s not raining in Wenshan District at the moment.
A strange and upsetting thing started off my day.
The atmosphere in my home feels just like a storm—tense, chaotic, and suffocating.
The story actually goes back to last night. While I was cooking dinner, my dad asked me where my mom was. I didn’t answer. To be honest, I didn’t feel like engaging. His questions never seem to help or change anything—like cleaning his room or helping with the house. I know that answering his question isn’t related to those issues, but I simply didn’t want to talk to him.
Later, he opened my door and started looking around for my mom. That behavior made me feel invaded and annoyed. But I didn’t feel like I had the right to argue with him.
I ate dinner quickly because I had an online meeting. When my mom got home, she called out and asked me to help her carry something. I didn’t respond, so she called my dad instead.
After that, my dad got angry because my mom’s female classmate had dropped her off. He assumed she was having an affair. I know it’s ridiculous, but this kind of thing happens frequently in our house.
My mom isn’t having an affair—she just got a ride home.
She broke her leg a year ago, and everyone has known that for a long time.
My dad has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but sometimes it feels like his behavior comes more from his personality than from his illness. Maybe the two are connected.
This morning, I woke up to them fighting again. When I opened my eyes, I immediately knew something was wrong. I tried to stay out of it, but the loud voices cut through everything. I forced myself to stay calm and respectful, even though I hated the noise.
Then my dad complained that I hadn’t answered his question the night before. I opened my door and told him:
“I have no obligation to answer your questions.”
He pointed his finger at my face and yelled:
“All you do is stay at home and sponge off your parents!”
That really hurt, because I haven’t been spending their money—I’ve been using the money I saved from my previous job to prepare for the IELTS exam.
I have to go to Australia. I have to succeed.
Someday, no matter what, I’ll take my mom away from this place.
I know this kind of shameful family story isn’t something people usually share publicly, but writing it down helps me breathe a little easier.
I just want a space where I can express every kind of feeling—without judgment.
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