It’s scary when my dad gets angry. Most of the time, when he yells, I just try and block his voice and nod. Keep my mouth shut, throat dry, and nod. Sometimes, if I have enough courage, I might look into the fiery dim holes of his eyes. The same dark eyes I have. “No Mercy.” His eyes say.
Oh, my poor brother. My poor, poor brother.
I went to Boston last weekend. The trip was the highlight of my year, thus far.
I have to write a travel article anyway for AP Comp, so i’ll post them later.
On the Boston trip, the second night was Party Hard night. Yes, Allie brought 99 Black Cherries in an Contact lens cleaner bottle. She shared some with atleast ten people, including me. Oh boy, did that hit hard. It was fun, after the stomach ache. Towards the end of the night, at 1am, me, ashley, and allie were talking while Halli showered. Ashley started to cry first. She said how frustrated she was, especially with her parents. Her parents let her do nothing after they found out of her interracial relationship. Their racism disgusts me. She cried because nothing on the trip went right for her; she was losing a friend and confused. She told us how she cries herself to sleep often, how she wears a mask and pretends to be happy. Then Allie started to cry. She said, “What’s wrong with me? Why does nobody want to stay with me?” She said how all her relationships are the exact same way, that they were hollow, ended too fast.
And I sat there. Thinking. What are my insecurities? What do I cry about? What makes me human?
So I came out too. I said that I was sick of being an equal to my guy friends, that I wanted to be seen as a girl too. And I cried because I couldn’t have what they have. But the truth is, I’m happy being the way I am, appear half girly, half not, a conserved type of spontaneous, funny, kind, generous, video game lover-esque type of girl. Intellectual and a thinker. It’s wonderful, the relationships I have with my guy friends. Allie and Ashley told me how they envied that about me, that I can have genuine relationships with guys. And I envied them for being able to get them. But then, then they told me the truth about their side.
They both took turns explaining this. I was utterly amazed the entire time. They said how being the ‘other type of girl’ (You know, attention grabber, tends to be loud and/or obnoxious, pretty, make-up, all over with hugs, flirtatious, cutesy, make other guys jealous kind of girl) is hard and painful work. They said how they have to change themselves into this thing, they have to pretend and act and desperately try to get attention, even by jealousy. They told me that nothing goes they way they want, that they never get the guy they want, that they’re sick of it. And I sat there, my mouth wide open, thinking, “I had N O idea it was like that.” I thought it was easy for them. Ashley, the gorgeous Filipino ‘model’. I thought it was easy for Allie, unique, beautiful, cute.
And there was me. I’m not a cute and small asian. I’m tall. And I appear as an equal to my guy friends. And being around them, I hated it. I wanted attention for the first time in my life. But when they told me their side, I reconsidered. I would rather be myself and be extremely happy hanging out with my guy friends without the sexual tension than chasing guys and counting hook-ups forever. Come college, we’ll see what happens. I might tweek my personality and try to get used to it. We’ll see.
End ramblings of a teenage girl.
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