I love you, even if I shouldn't.
Hello, LJ!
***
Not long back, my lolo and I were having lunch together with my mom and tita. We're a pretty close pair --my lolo and I. He's mentioned how I'm secretly his favorite granddaughter quite a few times. And that particular afternoon, he decides to throw a flaming ball in my face.
"You know I love you very much, but I sometimes don't like you."
Now there are times when I think that part of the reason we're very close is that we're very open to each other. But this time, he decided to underline, bold, and italicize the word brutally in being brutally honest. All I did was chew very slowly as not to drown out any word in the explanation that I knew was to follow.
"It's just that you don't text me anymore! You rarely text me, and when I'm with you, you're texting your friends!"
And we all know what's coming after that. A whole spiel about how I'm always particularly chattier and livelier when in company of my friends as compared to when I'm stuck with family. (In his defense, he was kind of referring to the other members of the clan.) The whole shebang; I'm sure you're acquainted with it, one way or another.
So I just sat there, as if nothing was really said, and waited until the topic was naturally changed. Of course, I didn't say anything in response to what just happened, because I know my family will be ready for some other kind of comeback. But that didn't mean I wasn't thinking of the perfect retort.
The quaint thing about our families, parents in particular, is that they believe our destinies are perfectly mapped out. They think that each pothole we go through, while cruising down the Autobahn in our metaphorical Bugatti Veyron (or Lamborghini; whatever suits you) is nothing compared to theirs, simply because they've already cruised past it before us. They will always think that they're having a much tougher time on the road, simply because their potholes have not yet been pointed out to them. And pointing ours for us makes them feel like we have no reason to bitch and moan because our maps have already been drawn. But rarely is gratitude on our minds whenever they find the chance to ask for it.
That is why it is always a little bit tougher to talk to family. They will always say, "We'll love/accept you no matter what, you can always talk to us". It is very much true most of the time, but that often doesn't seem the case when you find yourself dumped by the person you thought to be the love of your life. Try moping in front of them (assuming you're a teenager of course) and they'll somehow make you feel stupid for crying over nothing. I mean, sure, in the long run, it may have been kind of silly, but try experiencing it while you're right smack in the middle of the frenzy.
Of course it's easier for us to talk to our friends. Not because our families have forgotten how it's like to be teenagers, but mostly because they vividly remember how it was to have been stupid and semi-reckless, AND live through it. They will always have our best interests at heart, based on the rear view mirror. Just try telling them you were at a bar, dancing your ass off, until this guy, a really sweet blockmate you've always crushed on, suddenly becomes Mr. Smooth, lights you one, and takes shots with you. Your girlfriends will die and swoon over your cheesy one night romance, and ask if he's texted you the next day. Your parents, of course, will go straight to the smoking a joint part of the story.
Our families expect us to heed each and every advice they throw our way, because they know very well that whatever we're going through, they've already been through. They know that whatever they say is to make sure we don't wreck our cars because of reckless speed and nasty potholes.
But what they've forgotten, is that they've lived life not simply because they've actually always listened to their parents, but because they've experienced things themselves. Which is what they have to keep in mind each time we take that minor slip. (I say minor, not major.)
So with that in mind, I stood up as soon as we were done eating. I went to the kitchen and made my lolo my special hot chocolate he has always enjoyed.
I know he loves me, as I love him. And maybe a cup of cocoa will make him remember that consistent communication is not the only way of showing it.
***
Oh, so Paste = CTRL + V!
***
Not long back, my lolo and I were having lunch together with my mom and tita. We're a pretty close pair --my lolo and I. He's mentioned how I'm secretly his favorite granddaughter quite a few times. And that particular afternoon, he decides to throw a flaming ball in my face.
"You know I love you very much, but I sometimes don't like you."
Now there are times when I think that part of the reason we're very close is that we're very open to each other. But this time, he decided to underline, bold, and italicize the word brutally in being brutally honest. All I did was chew very slowly as not to drown out any word in the explanation that I knew was to follow.
"It's just that you don't text me anymore! You rarely text me, and when I'm with you, you're texting your friends!"
And we all know what's coming after that. A whole spiel about how I'm always particularly chattier and livelier when in company of my friends as compared to when I'm stuck with family. (In his defense, he was kind of referring to the other members of the clan.) The whole shebang; I'm sure you're acquainted with it, one way or another.
So I just sat there, as if nothing was really said, and waited until the topic was naturally changed. Of course, I didn't say anything in response to what just happened, because I know my family will be ready for some other kind of comeback. But that didn't mean I wasn't thinking of the perfect retort.
The quaint thing about our families, parents in particular, is that they believe our destinies are perfectly mapped out. They think that each pothole we go through, while cruising down the Autobahn in our metaphorical Bugatti Veyron (or Lamborghini; whatever suits you) is nothing compared to theirs, simply because they've already cruised past it before us. They will always think that they're having a much tougher time on the road, simply because their potholes have not yet been pointed out to them. And pointing ours for us makes them feel like we have no reason to bitch and moan because our maps have already been drawn. But rarely is gratitude on our minds whenever they find the chance to ask for it.
That is why it is always a little bit tougher to talk to family. They will always say, "We'll love/accept you no matter what, you can always talk to us". It is very much true most of the time, but that often doesn't seem the case when you find yourself dumped by the person you thought to be the love of your life. Try moping in front of them (assuming you're a teenager of course) and they'll somehow make you feel stupid for crying over nothing. I mean, sure, in the long run, it may have been kind of silly, but try experiencing it while you're right smack in the middle of the frenzy.
Of course it's easier for us to talk to our friends. Not because our families have forgotten how it's like to be teenagers, but mostly because they vividly remember how it was to have been stupid and semi-reckless, AND live through it. They will always have our best interests at heart, based on the rear view mirror. Just try telling them you were at a bar, dancing your ass off, until this guy, a really sweet blockmate you've always crushed on, suddenly becomes Mr. Smooth, lights you one, and takes shots with you. Your girlfriends will die and swoon over your cheesy one night romance, and ask if he's texted you the next day. Your parents, of course, will go straight to the smoking a joint part of the story.
Our families expect us to heed each and every advice they throw our way, because they know very well that whatever we're going through, they've already been through. They know that whatever they say is to make sure we don't wreck our cars because of reckless speed and nasty potholes.
But what they've forgotten, is that they've lived life not simply because they've actually always listened to their parents, but because they've experienced things themselves. Which is what they have to keep in mind each time we take that minor slip. (I say minor, not major.)
So with that in mind, I stood up as soon as we were done eating. I went to the kitchen and made my lolo my special hot chocolate he has always enjoyed.
I know he loves me, as I love him. And maybe a cup of cocoa will make him remember that consistent communication is not the only way of showing it.
***
Oh, so Paste = CTRL + V!