Third person
She is sad. Writing in a third person makes her feel less vulnerable to the world, and that she copied how to write from a third person's point of view makes her feel shitty. Like, won't I have any original thoughts? Or do I always have to take other people's ideas and plagiarize. It makes her feel dumb and unintelligent.
Alright. Had the best dinner. It was mostly the good food and the nice environment. But somehow, in her heart, she knows that this is probably one of the last rare times that she will sit with her dad alone, eating a nice dinner just both of them.
Her dad isn't a nice person. She knew it. She knows she has to get away from him, or over time she will become her dad's mirror image, forever imprinted with the meanness that is inherited from generation to generation. Her aunts were all mean, her grandparents were probably mean if she had the chance to know them.
Yet, he is her dad. He is the one that pays for bills and work hard to put food on the table. He is the one that sacrifices his time to make his family's life better. He had a hard and bitter life. He had every excuse to be mean. He knows he is mean, but yet he doesn't make moves to change his personality. He gets angry everyday at tiny issues, he is selfish, he is egoistic and demanding as well as impatient as a child on Christmas Eve.
It is difficult to be in this position. She feels bad, yet she knows she has to leave. She loves her dad. And now she is crying her eyes out as she acknowledges that fact.
They talked about the food. How good it was. They talked about old times. However, she is careful of what she says. It is easy to make him angry. He was like an active volcano, ready to erupt in anger any moment. It makes her sad.
The food was good though. The bill was very expensive. The waiter bid them a good journey and they left. Goodbye. I am leaving my childhood behind now.
Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They did not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will
Alright. Had the best dinner. It was mostly the good food and the nice environment. But somehow, in her heart, she knows that this is probably one of the last rare times that she will sit with her dad alone, eating a nice dinner just both of them.
Her dad isn't a nice person. She knew it. She knows she has to get away from him, or over time she will become her dad's mirror image, forever imprinted with the meanness that is inherited from generation to generation. Her aunts were all mean, her grandparents were probably mean if she had the chance to know them.
Yet, he is her dad. He is the one that pays for bills and work hard to put food on the table. He is the one that sacrifices his time to make his family's life better. He had a hard and bitter life. He had every excuse to be mean. He knows he is mean, but yet he doesn't make moves to change his personality. He gets angry everyday at tiny issues, he is selfish, he is egoistic and demanding as well as impatient as a child on Christmas Eve.
It is difficult to be in this position. She feels bad, yet she knows she has to leave. She loves her dad. And now she is crying her eyes out as she acknowledges that fact.
They talked about the food. How good it was. They talked about old times. However, she is careful of what she says. It is easy to make him angry. He was like an active volcano, ready to erupt in anger any moment. It makes her sad.
The food was good though. The bill was very expensive. The waiter bid them a good journey and they left. Goodbye. I am leaving my childhood behind now.
Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
How you suffered for your sanity
How you tried to set them free
They did not listen they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will
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