What I forget

I forget that my mom never took one step into a high school. She left her education unfinished at 7th grade in Mexico that is. She left so she could work. My dad left school because it was dumb for him and started working to take care of himself and his independence because even though my grandma offer education, he turned it down because he couldn't stand living under her thumb. Too immature to grasp that education can equal a career, a career a nice lifestyle while not having to kill himself to earn it.

I forget that their education only extended itself so far by choice or by not having one.

I forget and get irritated sometimes at their ideas of who I am watching or listening lectured online isn't my teacher or my class like they assumed, they don't know what I'm doing, what I'm reading, what I'm writing. What I'm doing. They don't understand and they won't be able to.

They don't know why it irritates me when they barge into my room, time and time again, asking questions, handing me clothes, calling me for stuff. Why is it that I am annoyed because I have to stop what I'm doing and sometimes I come back to my writing and I can't remember what I was going to write, academically or creativity wise.

I forget that they think I can go back right to my work because it's on my computer, waiting. I forget when I get irritated at having to pause right in the middle of a lecture online. I am impatient. I forget when I need to remember their backgrounds and realized that I'm the first in my immediate family to go to college, graduate, continue in Univ. & I'm doing it by myself out here, with little help and what help there is available does not extend to me because I am not family and even then, help for me is only how much I'm willing to help myself.

I am trying to do that, every day. I am trying to improve myself, to improve my life, to hold onto the hope that even though there is little hope, that I can provide for my parents. I am traditionalist in the sense of my family morals and I believe that is good but I keep my hope and try to remember. I keep my hope and I continue to write in that hope.

Let's just add one more thing, why not?!

I can't relate to her anymore.

& My attempts at relating are shut down and washed out by the sound of her constant TV blaring through my wall.

I'm trying to be her older sister, and for once, would like to talk to her about more than just what problem she couldn't figure out on her homework.

-_- & I wish she would come with me sometimes on my jog so that her body wouldn't become even more grotesquesly huge. If she was a guy, this would be great, but she's a girl. & she will be teased & have body images issues all her life, if she isn't careful.

I'm going to go on my jog now and cuss out my ineptness at motivation & relating

x___x

-_-

...How could I have not noticed how fuck up he is? & why is it that I keep thinking- I see where this is going to go & know that I can't do anything to prevent it? I'm trying right now. I'm paying attention because he called me. He reached out for me. I'm just wondering how the hell can I help because I don't think I can.

I'm just going to try to be here for him.

There's nothing else I can do.

I'm fuck either way.

OH & for once I'm not talking about a guy who I like, who I might become romantically entangled with.

This is worse.

This is family.

Fuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccccccccccckkkkkk -____-

I guess it all worked out

The reason I'm not blogging much these days is because happiness with little trivial complications that are nothing, has decided to visit me.

I am happy.

This is my secret blog that turn into my rant against what the fuck is up with my world & what the fuck am I doing? But the longer I don't blog, the longer my happiness has decided to stay. I only hope that everyone else feels the warmth of what life can be too.

& that this feeling stays, and this blog should turn into my nauseating happiness as I gush about books, movies, and all the good stuff that life has to offer like funnel cakes and inside jokes. Memories. Beautiful memories that make up our lives, that make up our daily happiness.

Now all that I want to do is go back to my writing, it beckons me, and I have answered its call. So I'm happy.