Rude Awakening

I’ve been having trouble sleeping early again. I’ve been going out for most nights and the sun is usually up by the time I get home. Hence, my sleep wake cycle is fucked up again. It was around 9 this morning, I think I’ve just slept for less than 20 minutes when the dad came barging into my room. He was saying I should call back the person I called yesterday, to follow up the status of my re-employment. Yup, he’s still trying to get me back at the hellhole, manipulating people here and there, exhausting his connections. I just had a scripted conversation yesterday, and I said lines such as “yes sir, I really want to go back” because he was listening, checking if I’m saying the right words. I felt sick to my stomach having words put into my mouth. And this morning he was asking me to do the same thing again. I was in no mood for such charades. I was cranky due to lack of sleep. So I pretended not to hear him and just continued sleeping. Then when it was apparent that I won’t wake up, he grabbed the pillow from my head and shouted with all his might, a number of expletives in rapid succession. Between those expletives I heard him say how irresponsible I am, something about work, something about maturity plus some more other shit that was vaguely comprehensible. It took a lot of will power to not shout back at him and just pretend to be sleeping. Jesus Christ, what a hypocrite! In the 27 years that I’ve known him to be the father, I doubt if he ever knew the real meaning of responsibility. And he’s not one who should lecture me about work either, being the father who was unemployed for most of my living years in this world--- not because there were no jobs available, but because he refused to work for anyone. He SHOULD be the boss. And if my refusing to be controlled, my reluctance to be forced into something that I don’t want to do proves that I am immature, then so be it. I believe though, that trying not to say these words to his face, trying not to shout back at him and shut him up, entails a certain degree of maturity on my part. Knowing how stubborn he is, answering back will lead to no resolution. It will only make things worse.

I have to leave. I really have to. Sometime next year, I’m not sure when exactly. I’m just sure I have to leave this place. Not necessarily out of the country--- I can’t afford that with my own money... at least not yet. Maybe somewhere south. Or way down south. I still have some savings left in my bank account. Enough for plane fare, rent and food for one month. I could easily get a job at some hospital in one of the cities there. Facilities are up to par with the ones here, and the training is arguably just as good. Plus there’s the extra benefit of being far away from it all. I’d spend the next few years away from the place I call home. And if everything goes smoothly, I might spend the rest of my life there. No more looking back.

I find it pathetic how I got homesick after several weeks on duty at the hospital a few months ago. I had the wrong perspective then, that’s why I lost sight of the target. Whenever I get homesick, I just have to think of certain encounters, like the one I had this morning. The perfect cure. Just reliving one or two encounters would be enough for me to believe that I’m better off in any other place but home.