Tangled

It’s like, weird. Normally, I do have a title for an article in my mind, which pretty much sums up my feelings at the moment of conception of the article. But now, I have none. I guess my brain’s gone more disorganised than ever and I think so much that it’s difficult to untangle facts from imagination.

Tangled. Just like those wires behind the CPU I was cleaning today. Hey, let’s call this article ‘Tangled’. :P

So, yeah, I was cleaning up stuff today and if you know me closely you would know how obsessed I get while cleaning up stuff in general, intolerant of any speck of dust larger than perhaps few microns. I was at it continuously the whole day, and at night when dad came home, he scolded me like hell and asked me to abandon it immediately. And like always, very sentimental about whatever I’m doing, I started crying and I stubbornly continued to wipe a table with a scrap of cloth I had in my hand. Then he scolded me even more and I cried even more, deciding in my mind that I wouldn’t give him a goodnight kiss today. Then deciding, I would never kiss him today onwards. Never wish him goodnight. Never talk to him. And if he dares try and stop me I wouldn’t step into that room again or sleep on that bed. If he’d force me to go to sleep, I would sit in a corner of the living room and scream and throw tantrums and not allow myself to be taken to that room until I’ve cleaned it and satisfied myself to my heart’s content.

That was inside my mind. But all the while, I was just crying.

And then, since he allowed me to finish, I forgave him. I even kissed him goodnight. Actually, I wasn’t angry anymore. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps because I was happy I had finished cleaning.

But, you know, he wasn’t really scolding me all the while. He was scolding that obsessed part of me which pisses him all the time. He was scolding my mom, who doesn’t care much about the dust. He was scolding himself since he gave me the idea about cleaning up. And he was scolding himself for scolding me. But that was inside his mind. Outside, of course, he was scolding me.

But there is one theory that has shattered this time. A theory about compatibility. I always thought I was very compatible with my dad and I would want a husband who’s just like my dad. And over the years I’ve found out most girls think the same. However, I do not think it’s really practical. It just appears so. There are so many things, you know, which I just do to humour him. Same goes with mom. That’s because I never expected mom and dad to be logical and understand my point of view. So I really don’t care what they think of me as long as I’m able to keep them happy. But with a partner, I’ll definitely expect that understanding. And then it’ll all go wrong. I can’t always humour him in all his various moods, I’ll always tend to force him to look from my point of view and not invalidate it. Maybe I’ll also expect him to give me little gifts and surprises, something you never expect from parents. Surely my dad wouldn’t cater to those expectations; he’s actually quite boring in terms of romance. Or maybe that’s because he’s totally disillusioned about it by this age. And mom and dad, they’ve long forgotten the rosy days and just remember how much they sacrificed for each other, and how much the other hurt them. That in turn makes them more stubborn with each other. It’s pathetic, I would never want to end up like that.

I am crying a lot and ... Oh, well, I forgot what I was actually going to write.