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• 1990-09-10
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• Glendale, WI
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• 2005-03-12
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• im a black belt!^^ won 9th place in an art contest
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• drawing, coloring, and painting
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Wednesday, November 23, 2005
The “Joke” I Said to My Dad
another school eassy....*sigh*
i dont expect u 2 read dis, & dis is not a happy topic
Sitting quietly on the wooden floor inside a hut, which was located near the Lao temple, listening to my dad greeting my friend’s grandpa and led on to conversation, I thought of a joke to say to my dad. I wasn’t sure if the joke would be funny for others, but I thought it would be for me. While I was debating over myself whether I should try it or not, my dad reached out to touch me (like fathers do). Decided to try the joke now or regret it forever, I backed away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked playfully.
“I don’t want you to touch me,” I answered plainly.
“Why? I missed you. I want to hug you,” he replied and reaching out to touch me again. I was kind of touched by the words, but disgusted that they had come from him.
“I don’t want you to. I don’t want your germs on me,” I answered quite calmly with a little disgust, not feeling any guilt or regrets while backing away from him again.
Not being able to hear what the last sentence was since I said it quietly, he asked: “What did you say?”
“I don’t want to catch your germs and disease,” I said it more loudly. That was the joke that I had in mind. He had some kind of disease or problems with his back, and that was why I thought I’d make a joke about it. Luckily, he and my friend’s grandpa laughed and took it as a joke. I, however, did not laugh with them because the humor of it was no longer in my mind anymore since it was said out loud (though I thought that it would be a joke at first). I actually meant it after I said it. I did not want him to touch me at all when I realized what I said and did. This got worse when I went back to our apartment at the end of the summer because that was when I started to realize that I hated him.
Since that day forward, I hid away from him everywhere. Inside the apartment, I would cover my face with my hands or with anything that I happened to be holding when I saw him. He disgusted me whenever I looked at him, even for half a second. I also did not want to breathe the same air as him, because, in my opinion, he stank. Whenever I saw him, whether inside the apartment, inside someone’s house, or out in public, my hands, or something in them (if I was holding anything) would fly up to cover my face automatically as if they knew how to act without me thinking. I would try to stay away from him as much as possible so that I wouldn’t have to go through the process of covering my face and trying to find a place to hide.
Covering my face wasn’t good enough to satisfy me; I stopped talking to him completely. Since seeing him disgusted me already, talking to him would be just as bad. If I wanted to say something to him, or tell him something, I would either tell my brother or his mom to tell him what I wanted to say, or I would write it down on a piece of paper and throw it to him.
Everything he did and said annoyed me. When he was talking, I didn’t want to breathe anything in because I didn’t want anything that came out from him, even his breath. Some of the things that he did not only annoyed me, but also some other people, too. For example: he farted whenever he felt like it, except in public; he sneezed too much and too loud; and he said stupid meaningless things. The sound of his fart was almost like the house was going to collapse. If you were eating something, but then was interrupted by his fart, you would most likely be losing your appetite. The sound of his sneeze was almost like the sound of thunder that could be heard at least 30ft away. His stupid meaningless made up words (for example: when he was cold, one of the phases he would say was “ka-ja, ka-ja, ka-ja”) was annoying enough to make people yell “Shut up!” at him. These things didn’t annoy me that much at first, but then they became really irritating when I started hating him. From then on, everything he did annoyed me, except for when he gave me money. I did not want to accept anything from him, even his money because I would feel nauseated for accepting anything from him. Therefore, I gave my brother his money, and took my brother’s money instead.
My hatred for him grew more and more each day. The horrible memories of him beating me up and the hatred that I felt during those times had made up all of this. I couldn’t even describe it without cursing the whole time. I hated myself for what I had done for him. Fore example, I used to bow to him because the landlady forced me to. The hatred for the landlady making me do those things was inside me, too, but I couldn’t stay mad at her for long because I liked her more than any other adults I’d met. For him, I hated everything that he had made me do. For example, during this one beating, he made me bow to his feet and say something about “I’m sorry, I would never do it again. I’m sorry.” Though I don’t remember what I was saying sorry for right now because I want to forget about it, I can still remember how much hatred I had for him. My anger was boiling hot inside me like hell, mixing with humiliation. Thinking that any place would be better than this, I wanted to die. However, I wouldn’t because when I calmed down, the thought of committing suicide scared me.
The hatred kept on growing, never backing down, not even for an inch. People tried to talk me out of hating him, but that had not only made me hate him even more, it also made me hate them (a little) for taking his side. Though despite that, their questions made me wonder if I had any other reasons beside the beatings.
“Why do you hate your dad?” asked one of the adults who tried to persuade me. “He is your dad. Your parents love you. If they don’t, who will?”
Lowering my head so that the person wouldn’t be able to see my face so well, I frowned. Oh God, I thought, not another one of these lectures! Those people who tried to persuade me out of hating him were getting really annoying. I tried to ignore what the person’s saying, but I couldn’t because the person’s questions were quite stupid.
“What don’t you like about him? You can tell me what you don’t like about him, and I’ll tell him to change,” recommended the persuader. The person waited for my answers, I did not reply, and so the person just kept on talking and trying to persuade me. Though I did not answer out loud, I answered inside my head. People like you would never understand my reasons. You don’t even know what’s on a child’s mind. Though if I would answer you, you would just think my reasons are just plain stupid. Besides, I told some other persuaders some of my reasons and what I hate about him, and he had not changed at all. He’s not even trying! Aw, just shut up already! Like hell you can persuade me. Let me see, what I don’t like about him? He beat me up since I was small as I could remember! He farted too much, he sneezed too much, he stinks, he gets mad easily, and much much more! More than you could ever imagine! Ahhh! Be quiet already! God, when will this lecture end? I would not say that out loud, of course, because I had to show respect or else they would discipline me ten times than they would normally do. Besides, I didn’t want them to get close enough to have me under their control more than I already was. With that, I just kept my mouth shut and prayed that the lecture would end soon.
Since the day I said the joke, I have been hating him. People had tried to talk to me out of the hating, but all of them failed. I was and am stubborn, and I would never back down. Though I wouldn’t listen to them, their questions also made me wonder why I dislike him. With most reasons I came up with made we hate him even more. Everything he did annoyed me and I would try to hide away from him. He is the only person who I hate the most for the longest time in this whole world. The thought of him disgusted me that made me think I might not be able to eat for months and would have nightmares if I had to look at him for one minute. Since I’ve been hating him for so long, I can suppress my feelings a little bit now, though I’m more stubborn than ever before.
At the first time I realized I hate him, I was still scared of him. Throughout the years, the fear came to an end that he doesn’t scare me at all. When he gets angry, then I would get even more angry than he could be; when he’s nice, I would ignore him and hope that he wouldn’t get angry soon because that would to ruin my mood and make me angry enough to destroy anything. Since the time I overcame my fear of him, I became more independent and a little more cheerful in my own way because I get to do and have almost anything I want. For example: I would ignore him completely that would make him really angry (but I don’t care) and I get to keep on taking Tae Kwon Do class until I got to be a black belt.
If it wasn’t for the “joke,” then my life would never have been as good as this: free from his control.
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