Compassion

Journal Entry 3
by anonymous

2/3/04

I called home today. My phone conversation was approximately 11 seconds long. Don’t ask why I timed myself. Anywho’s…I wonder why I can’t hold a conversation with my parents. Looking at my cell phone bills, I barely call home. When I do, all calls last less then 1 minute long. Okie I lie, on 1/16/03 it lasted 3 minutes. Maybe I was talking with my big bro that day. I dunno.

As far back as I can remember, my parents never asked me how my day was, or what I did at school. They never ask about my sex life, who I hang out with, or if I’ve smoked any weed lately. Maybe they trust me too much. They know I can’t get any (sex that is). They know my friends are dorks and I’m too sensitive to burn incense in the house let alone smoke anything that hideous in odor. Or maybe that just don’t care what’s goin on in my life. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask how their lonely depressed daughter was doing right? At least pretend like they’re interested??...right...

I can’t really expect them to say anything to me when I hardly try to initiate a conversation with them at all. If I talk to them, it’s because I need something from them. I’d say, “ma, what you cookin for me to eat?” or “pa, can I get some moneys?” If they talk to me, it’s because they want me to do something for them. Mom says to me, “ayy mee gabey, dam bai pleam!!” (Translation: hey you water buffalo, make some rice right away!!)

I guess I’m used to seeing other peoples with parents who actually talk to them. My friends here spend a super long time on the phone chatting with their moms and stuff. Or they get stuff sent to them by mail. They got parents who are really active in their lives.

Sometimes I wish I had that kind of relationship……..sadness…

Okiee, I lie again. So maybe I don’t want that kind of relationship. I think what I have with my parents is different, but it’s different in a good way. I don’t need to tell them I love them because they already know. (I don’t remember a time when I actually told them that I loved them.) They never tell me that they love me, ‘cuz how can they not love a perfect child such as I? (Well, my mom did say she loved me when she got that dvd player for Christmas. I had to spend a couple hundred just to finally hear her say “I love you goun. It’s sad, but a funny type of sad.) We’re not affectionate and we don’t need to spend a lot of time talking to each other to know what’s going on in our lives.

The relationship I have with my parents, though few words are spoken, means everything to me.