No, not my birthday, although I have been told that my mind is that of a sixty-year-old elder.
July 5th was my Father’s 23rd birthday, and lets just say that overall, it was awkward.
On the way to work in the morning, I had a fierce debate (a.k.a. small argument) with him regarding driving, well, the lack of driving. I’ve been avoiding to drive the car, because paranoia, along with four extra servings of fear, makes me a twitchy and anxious driver. It mentally exhausts me, and I really would do a lot to just avoid driving, but of course, I do understand that it’s quite difficult to get anywhere in this bloody big country without a car and good driving skills, so while I agree with my father that it’s necessary, I think it’s useless right now because in 3 months, I will be at school again, which means 8 months without a car. And gods, I’ll forget a lot by then.
My dad wants to know how much it’ll cost to buy insurance for me, but to be honest, I think it’s going to be a waste of money to bring the car down to SD because of the insurance and parking costs.
Sigh. I wish I could drive without so much fear, but it doesn’t seem like that’s happening anytime soon…
What’s worse is that after work, I find that my parents have no idea what restaurant they’re planning to eat at, and I really do dislike spontaneity in these types of situations. Even worse, they both stress how we “have” to go to a sushi restaurant because I like sushi, and goddamnit, don’t do this to me!
It’s your birthday, so choose where you want to go! Don’t choose it just for me, because, and I’ve said this before, my opinion shouldn’t matter here. It was a very bitter-tasting dinner for me, and I felt rather sick, because while part of me is touched that they’re willing to do so much so I can eat the foods I want to (I’ve told them before that I like sushi, but I eat pretty much anything that’s not spicy).
You don’t need to do these things for me, and it’s not making me feel special. Rather, thanks to this meal, I’ve got a stomach-full of guilt eating away at me, and it feels like my debt to my parents just grew slightly larger.
I am honored that they’d do this for me, but please, I’d rather you don’t. (I can see how whiny I’m sounding right now, but they shouldn’t do this because I don’t want people to care about me. I’ll be fine, no one has to worry about anything.)
And my mom really rubs it in my face, so sometimes I think that they’re doing this for guilt-trip material, for future use.
I am so very serious about moving to some remote place and cutting all contact with the people I currently know because damn, I’m getting so tired.