It’s Father’s Day today and I didn’t celebrate it because I obviously do not have any reason to celebrate it. To be honest, I completely dislike my dad. Yes, I have a dad, and he’s still alive. I acknowledge him as my dad because nothing can change the fact that he is. As much as I wish he wasn’t my dad, I can’t deny that he brought me into this world. But why do I hold so much hatred towards him? Because he made my brother and I live in an absolutely intolerable conditions. The house was filled with so much garbage, I couldn’t watch television for more than ten years. Everyday after school, since the age of 12, I would dread coming home. I would have to walk the narrow aisle full of newspapers piled up high to the ceiling. The ceramic floors were cracked and cardboard boxes were flattened and placed over the cracks to prevent accidents. I had to wear shoes/slippers 24/7. My room was very dusty and I could not do any laundry. I had to wear my school uniform for two weeks straight before it got washed. And imagine wearing it for two weeks straight?!?! I mean, teenagers perspire A LOT especially in sunny Singapore. So I was wearing a stinky uniform for at least 1.5 weeks before it actually got cleaned. I had to resort to stealing money from my mom to buy food because either I wasn’t given money or I was given only S$5 a week. How does a teenager survive on S$5 a week? I can’t even buy a proper meal in school. Apparently, my parents still think that secondary school food cost the same as primary school (50cent fried rice, noodles etc). Seriously?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Honestly, as much as I wanted to have friends over, I couldn’t because I felt so ashamed when they asked if they could come over to study and I had no choice but to turn them down because I didn’t want them to see the mess that I was living in. The only times I agreed to having them over was to use the study room downstairs the condo. I couldn’t bring them up. Yes, in case I didn’t mention it earlier, I live (and still do) in a condominium. The house is quite spacious and there’s a toilet in each of the three bedrooms, and one in the kitchen/backyard/wash-area. I wish I took photos of the mess before renovation but unfortunately, I didn’t want to keep any memories whatsoever. I had thoughts of running away from “home” because I hated living in the house. I don’t call it a home because a house is a house, and a home is a place where your heart is. If your heart isn’t there, a house remains a house. It will never become a home. Besides, a home should be a place of comfort, not a place of rubbish. I went into depression and had suicidal thoughts. Did badly in school because I was always feeling sad.

Right now, it’s been two years plus since the renovation and I feel happier. I can walk around the house and sit in the balcony and have my tea. I can finally breathe and relax. I’m not sure how I managed to survive this ordeal but yes I did. The house is in a much better condition compared to two years ago. I’m thankful for my mom for standing up to herself when she finally had enough of this shit. I’m thankful that she found out that my dad was messing around with another woman and kicked him out of the house, and got the house back in a “livable” shape – clean and tidy. Yes, during those eight odd years, I didn’t (and couldn’t) do any housework. I couldn’t sweep or mop the floors. Dinners were always store-bought. I hadn’t eaten a home cooked meal in those eight odd years.

I feel so much happier now that my dad is finally out of the house. He has a disease called, “Hoarders disease” which means that he loves to keep things and refuses to throw items away. These items include newspapers, spoilt fans and other rubbish our neighbours threw out. In other words, whatever rubbish people throw away are like prized items to my dad. I’ve no idea why he’s like this but I guess it’s the mindset that he has – he thinks that he can fix those items and make it working again so that he doesn’t need to spend money buying a new similar item. To him, saving money is extremely important. Every cent counts. I agree on that. But to save to the extent of making the condition of the house topsy turvy and unlivable is absolutely not tolerable. I’m thankful for my boyfriend of 5 years who helped me through this ordeal by calling the police that fateful night to get my dad out of the house. I lost a few friends because of this whole house fiasco. I had trouble socialising with people because I tend to stay cooped up and I was a very very shy kid. My mom thought I had gold in my mouth because I refused to open my mouth to talk. I still don’t like socialising much but I’m trying my best to talk as and when required.

So that’s my life story. I do apologise if this post has grammatical and sentence structural errors. I must be embarrassed of myself for embarrassing my alma mater CHIJ TP with such a poor command of English. Do forgive me!

Anyway, life goes on. I’m working now and am looking for a new job because the current pay isn’t very good. I don’t like what I do and I don’t have the freedom to do what I want in the office. I sit at the desk from 9 to 6pm till my butt hurts. I guess it’s time to look for something else. As always, the grass is always greener on the other side.

Till my next post, cheers! (:

P.S. This entry is written entirely out of the blue to vent my frustrations.



  1. June 17, 2014 / 1:19 am

    hugs dear!

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