crashdown cafe

i arrived happy. going there and coming back wasn't the fastest way to get here, but hey, i wanted to do it and it was good for me. don't question or complain, okay? just... ride.

but, apparently:

it's not a good idea for me to bring my PowerBook home.

and i did, over the last weekend. my father knew already, which was really the end of it all. so what difference does it make that my mother and my other sister now know? i don't like lying, but even in telling the truth that i have a personal computer i've to tell them the lie that it's just a loan, of sorts, from my first aunt, because she's not using it and passed it to me. so i can't even live that little bit free-er and not have to hide everything and be sneaky around a place that i'm supposed to consider my home? i can't just leave my bag lying around instead of having to bring it with me, room to room, or lock it up, so no one will see the cat that everyone knows about anyway?

life might be happier if i didn't live in a home with people i'm related to. i can't wait to move out, or move in elsewhere, or with someone else. i can't even say anything, because i wasn't being berated, scolded, or argued with. i was being rationalized to, reasoned to, in even, reasonable tones that normally could invite debate, countering and negotiation, but experience has taught that this tone means: this is what i think is best for you, and you should not do anything else.

even the subtext isn't definite or controlling. but you know the meaning. and i definitely know the feeling.