Sunday night

After my mom spent the afternoon and evening cooking and serving my dad's side of the family, my dad got into this episode of rage. I was resting on the couch, while my dad was watching tv, and my mother doing household errands when my mom asked a question that I thought was just an innocent question, but my dad went wild with rage. He started to scream and breathe sharp breaths in between his teeth.

I couldn't believe he was ruining a lovely meal with his anger. I couldn't believe that my dad was sticking up for his friend than his own wife, his helper. I couldn't recognize him when he was like this, but when this happens, I become a little girl again; i become helpless, scarred, and t the mercy of my father's conscience. He kept going at her with his words, as if she was some kind of toy, as if she didn't have a heart or feelings. He threw the rice maker on the floor, along with a dish and several keys.

Why is he doing this? Why must he express his anger this way? Why does he keep upsetting my mother?

I don't want to make my father the bad person. There's probably a whole other story that I wasn't paying attention to... or will ever find out.

All i know is that my mother took every word, didn't do anything to stop him.

Now, my dad has released all of the rage and is sitting in front of the television. The argument finished as fast as it started.

My dad kept telling my mom that it's her fault that these fights mess up the kid (me). But my dad is the one who isn't letting go of the misunderstanding. he keeps asking the same question over and over again. As if the more he asks, the more suitable the same answer will be. I'm drained, of tears and of respect. A little after the fight ended, my dad asked me to make him some tea. This made me feel so disgusted at him. I usually make him tea when he comes home from work, or after he eats... the least I could do when he worked his butt off for me. But after this fight, after he made himself look like an unpredictable, immature, monster, he asks for tea as if he did something right... as if he needs to be comforted... when he's the one who is approaching, he's the one who is raising his voice, he's the one who is throwing his words out like blades.

I am still hopeful in the Lord. I thank God that this fight didn't involve physical force. That i was able to hold back both parties from doing something they would have regretted.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow, but at the same time I want to get out of this numbing home. What i thought was a safe haven is really a four walled place... of no meaning.

I thank God for reminding me and motivating me to be urgent with my time.

I just had to get this out of my mind.

Tomorrow will be better. God's grace will sustain me for whatever He has in store for me.

May I continue to revere Jesus Christ as my most precious treasure.