The inanities of life in this house.
I tell you, it's a barrel of laughs.

Dearest Loser,

I sincerely hope you find solace in Mother Dearest's arms as she
attempts to protect you from the harsh realities of life.
That, of course, being that there are BIG BAD WOLVES out there.
Namely, me.
I also pray that you will be able to find comfort in your own
ignorance.
However, I also sincerely urge you to find your true calling in life.
I suggest that you look up openings as Mother's Boy.

Yours sincerely,
Nicole Tey.

Don't you think my functional is amazing.
For one, I find that my tone of formality in such proceedings is admirable.

Ahh. The beauty of the English language.

I have just had the pleasure of enjoying a full day out of my parents' sight
and in the comforting company of my aunt and sisters.
And Mao.
I love dresses.
Yes I do.
It's amazing how much I've changed.
And WH, if you're here, reading this, there is NOTHING wrong with that.
Just to let you know, I don't depend on your opinion to live my life.

And I saw an amazingly beeyoootifull nike bag.
It's purple.
I just checked the website.
It's called the...
the training tote.
In two tones of purple.
Lusters.

As these few weeks passed, I noticed a degeneration of the
relationship between my parents and I. [Note the use of concise English?]
While it is not entirely their fault, perhaps not even half of their fault,
I am not entirely to blame either.
I'm just so tired.
Of trying to be what they want me to be.
It's like always being one step behind.
And I will start to stumble soon.

Firstly, I don't think it is fair of them to comment on my performance in
school when they have not been updated as to my results.

Secondly, I feel it is not acceptable for my mother to travel overseas
and then expect to understand everything, the whole situation of my
academic progress, just like that. And then criticize me.
That is just not morally right.
You don't do stuff like that.
It is an unfair assessment of the situation.

And I hope you lose.
I hope you are proved so wrong, I don't even have to talk to you.
Because you owe me an apology.
For all those things you said.
You know they weren't true.
You know it was unfair.
But you said it all the same.

Why?
I really hate the way you make me feel lesser than I really am.
I realize I deserve more than this.
You do too.
I don't want to treat you this way.
But I'm not going to just back off and let you step all over me.
Not anymore.
I used to say things I didn't believe in to pacify people.
I'm done with that.
Just because I agreed with you before doesn't mean I will forever.
I have my own thoughts.
And I feel that I make a more accurate assessment of the situation than
you could ever.
You don't have to tell me to do things like study.
I know how to do that for myself.
I've grown up in so many ways,
but in other aspects I'm still the kid inside.
Waiting for my mother to take my hand.

You weren't the part of my life that I wanted you to be.
You were always so distant.
The Working Mom.
So preoccupied with something else.
Always more important.

I know you're busy.
But I have been waiting.
My whole life.
For you to open the door.
You think of my life as the bane of yours?
I think you do.
And I'm sad.
Because you don't know me.
And I don't know you.

For a mother and a daughter to be stuck outside each other's door
in the pouring rain,
pounding to be let in.
When in reality, no-one is at home.
Are you waiting for me to open my doors?
I can't.
I'm right here outside your house waiting for you to open yours.