I saw how other parents were like, having the chance now to be more exposed to the world by living on my own. I couldn't accept that my father was 'bad'. I could only keep coming up with excuses after excuses to 'prove' to myself that he is like all other fathers I've seen. Deep down, I was envious of my friends. They have such loving and protective fathers. I only knew father to be a bad-tempered and scary man whom I have to deal with very carefully so that I don't displease him and be punished. I didn't know that I was making excuses for him as well as myself then. I wanted to think and feel that I had a normal father so much that I even told my friends how 'nice' he was to me so that I could really convince myself about him. Time and again he failed me. Yet I was unwilling to believe that he was what I saw with my own eyes. I could tell myself that all fathers did all the bad things he did to Mama and us to their children too. It was just that they never show these behaviours in front of people, that's why I didn't see them often. Everyone was bad and not true. Perhaps what he imparted in us since young worked.
I always wanted to go home every weekend. I didn't really like the feeling of being at home but I didn't know why I couldn't help but wanted to go home so much every week. I told myself that it was 'homesickness'. Everyone away from home misses home. Although I really felt that I didn't understand why people missed their homes when homes were such miserable place, I accepted this reasoning and thought that perhaps it was my feelings about home that was wrong. Everyone had the same home and everyone loved home. It was my problem that I even suspected other people's love for home. I blamed myself for not loving my home as much as other people did, thinking that I had a normal home.
Now I know better. I wanted to go home to ensure that Mama Didi and Baby were alive at home. I couldn't bear not going home because I couldn't bear not knowing and seeing that they were alive. I cheated myself. I was too naive. I made all my friends felt that I had such warm home and even jeolous of me. I really succeeded in convincing everyone including me that I had a normal lovely home. Perhaps this was the reason why, after finding out the truths about my family when I was older, I had such hard time accepting them.
I always wanted to go home every weekend. I didn't really like the feeling of being at home but I didn't know why I couldn't help but wanted to go home so much every week. I told myself that it was 'homesickness'. Everyone away from home misses home. Although I really felt that I didn't understand why people missed their homes when homes were such miserable place, I accepted this reasoning and thought that perhaps it was my feelings about home that was wrong. Everyone had the same home and everyone loved home. It was my problem that I even suspected other people's love for home. I blamed myself for not loving my home as much as other people did, thinking that I had a normal home.
Now I know better. I wanted to go home to ensure that Mama Didi and Baby were alive at home. I couldn't bear not going home because I couldn't bear not knowing and seeing that they were alive. I cheated myself. I was too naive. I made all my friends felt that I had such warm home and even jeolous of me. I really succeeded in convincing everyone including me that I had a normal lovely home. Perhaps this was the reason why, after finding out the truths about my family when I was older, I had such hard time accepting them.
