Weep

I weep for not being close to or attentive to my parents. They are in their seventies. I can’t change myself or my attitude towards them, I’ve always taken them for granted. It is not to say they petted and pampered me. I used to rebel always and try to get my way. They are old and not like they used to be, now in their old age. I can feel their old age in my bones. They seem to be content in their retired selves. They rely on my brother for support when needed yet it is rare.

When I come out of my room to dine watching television my dad joins me. He dissects and discusses the news with me and at times I don’t even feign interest. My mom calls me often in a day, like really a lot. Some days if not for her calls I might not have received any call. Is it them craving for attention or is it me craving their company due to my solitude. I can’t and don’t know how to express my affection towards them. For if I start to change my attitude towards them it might feel strange. They are light years ahead of their departure and why think of it now. At least that is what I feel. Yet I want those light years to mean something.

I can’t co exist with my brother. We tend to fight always. If not for mediation of my parents there would have been a violent ruckus between him and me. Even as it is there is a ruckus. Blessed by god we have ample money for our needs. They insist on a business and me working on it not for the money. They want me to be engaged and they don’t consider me sitting all day long before a computer writing, as being engaged. But I don’t want the business and want writing. I want freedom to roam far and wide that can’t be because of my psychiatric condition. I just realised that a tour with my family, my parents and brother might feel good. But I resist even the little sojourns out of our house as I can’t remain without smoking for long. When away from them be it the distance to my room, my love for them grows. Yet when with them there is inevitably quarrel. They try to coax me in to changing my wayward behaviour. But I am set in my habits and can’t change.

I don’t shave by myself and often times have an ugly stubble. I wear the same old dress repeatedly. I don’t do simple errands. All these cause great fights as they criticise and try to change my ways. It still takes my mom a lot of coaxing to bring me to the dining table and have my meals. I thought of writing a poem but prose or poem words don’t suffice to express my emotions now. Every parent all over the world are mostly thus caring and loving towards their children. But in the west especially the parents learn to let go of their kids to seek their own lives. Not all kids are like me unresponsive and not reciprocating. An eminent hand would have drawn a novel out of this by now. Here I am rambling about a novel and not appreciative of what I have going here.

I am being hounded for my being wayward. I must first convince my family that I am responsible. Then I must have a bigger say in things. My brother claims I am not yet an adult. Though it angers me it is true. Watching adult movies alone can’t make a person an adult. Yet he is the one confining me at every step. For to be an adult or not, whatever it is I have to do it in my own terms. Soon somehow I must convince one and all that I am my own man free and responsible. I shall then seek to spend time with my parents and my family which includes my brother. If I am successful in some sphere then all my worries and little inconveniences and inconsistencies will be forgotten. That is part of the reason I seek fame and success. For with it I can be closer to my family and make them worry less. Even if they don’t I think they feel I have never risen to my full potential. To succeed before their eyes what joy and reward. I do all things I do waiting for that moment of epiphany.

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