The Sandman

Apt

I thought I have way passed the notion of drinking without spewing projectiles everywhere, but I ended up doing the thing which I detest last Saturday, much to my chagrin. And the worst part is mum saw me wasted as she had just finished praying. So I got a lecture about being a responsible Muslim and she told me about my choices of friends and I actually felt insulted. They took good care of me instead of leaving me by the roadside or fall into the river but hey, whatever I did is by my own choice and no one else influenced me in any way. Its my fault that I drank too much and KO'ed, being a fucking burden to almost everyone. I guess, my mum just wants to be in denial that the child she raised too conservatively turns out to be the very bogeyman of what she feared. Perhaps I'm a changeling (and sometimes I think so too) but I'm touched and relieved that she didn't berate at me me or something (maybe because her very brothers drink, smoke, and partake in other vices). I can understand her fears but I'm doing them responsibly, and I'm sorry I let that one moment slipped by and for you to see me like a pathetic wreck. It pisses me off so bad as well for letting that double life I've led to coalesce so badly; suddenly appearing and ripping the idealistic fabric of reality you quilted to blanket yourself from all the harsh realities that have rendered you to the brink of paranoia. This is also the reason why I've always told you I've "night filming"(though that excuse may seem rather invalid now) because I don't want you to know this being the Muslim that you are.

Ultimately, its a choice. And I've made mine. I'll bear the circumstances. If I go to hell, so be it; I don't think I'm ever a filial son.

You've been keeping me on the brink of insanity if not for my uber sense of self-control, which ironically, was instilled by you subconsciously ever since I was little.