Finally, I kicked myself out of the house. I had my first night in our old house after I had a huge argument with my father. I cleaned my old room, had some groceries stocked, and read a lot of novels. The training for copy editors just ended last week, so I'm still waiting for the results. I think it will be in two weeks.
If you are wondering why I kicked out, here's the full story.
So my father went home, drunk as usual, he's been an alcoholic for 20 years now, I think. He kind of loses all his senses when his drunk. I really thought psychologists can handle their brains well, but I guess I was wrong. His blabbering again and again...how he hates my mother, how he hates me and my younger brother. He was sounding like a broken record.
Out from nowhere, he called our pet dog, Julia. Julia is a crossbreed of Labrador and Shih Tzu with soft black furs, I think she was five or six months old. She's really small for her age, may be because of her mom (Shih Tzu). Though, he was noisy all the time since I was a kid, I never got used to it. But it was a "normal" night for us. I was just watching X Factor.
Here comes Julia, barking loudly, so happy to see her master. My father took his shoe off and with all is strength, threw to it to the cheerful Julia. Then, with the shock and impulse, I got the shoe and with all my strength, I threw it back toward my father's face. He's face had the shoe mark, I could die laughing.
But Julia's howl of pain, suffering, and agony got my attention. I hate that dog. Always pestering me whenever I'm busy. Always asking for food. But to my mind, what did the fucking dog do to you? I might have shaken some faith here, choosing a dog over your own father. But that's what happened.
My father was in rage, he assembled his fist, ready to punch me. All I said was "GO ON." That's the irony, I said go on, but he never did it. If he punched me with his big fist, I could not imagine how ugly I would be. LOL! Just like the telenovelas we see on television. It was such a dramatic scene. It was intense.
A few minutes later, my father, with I-DON'T-KNOW-WHAT-HAPPENED, was happy I threw the shoe at him. He said he would even get angrier if I just had sat there and done nothing. STUPID PSYCHO! Who is he fooling? I know he got his senses back with the shoe stirring up his mind. He knew that he is wrong. He knew he made a mistake.
I got enough of it. I actually admire my mother for still being with him, with that "crazy" aging man. So the next morning, I packed my things, and now, I'm here in my room now writing this blog entry. You might think I'll be lonely, don't worry, I'm honestly not.
Wow, that was some sharing! wahahahahahahahahah!