They.

Music: None [ 4:00 pm, my room ]

It is a general rule on our house that when classes are suspended, one should stay at home, study his lesson and do household chores. Nothing else. Period. End of story. I have been locked up in my room since Wednesday, and two more days to go before I can define the word “freedom” again.

Being the youngest of two children, I have the least priority, so to speak. My older brother, Ivan, who is one year my senior, albeit his age doesn’t have the highest priority, however. Neither of us receives the kind of love we yearned since we were kids. Our parents’ principal priority is themselves, let alone their jobs.

I have no right to blame them. They feed me, they clothe me, they send me to a private school, they buy me things I want, and most of all, they made me.

They are our parents, we cannot do anything about that, my brother always tells me. I always agree with him. They are my parents. But then, what I only want is a kind of love only parents can give. I know that someday, my brother will stumble across my writings and he will know exactly what I feel inside. Well, I do not fear that day. The only thing I dread is my loss of means of expression.

Let this be the outlet of my life. Let my tears run dry. Let my words be heard.