I was supposed to write yesterday night. But I was going through and putting together the compilation of this for my mom, plus I was super exhausted so I just had to go to sleep. 

Ironic, if you consider how much I waited for this moment and you should think that I would be ecstatic about finally seeing them, my parents. But I'm more torn than not.

Perhaps it's because I wasfeeling a little better, like I could balance on my two feet for the past few days. Or maybe it's because being with them reminded me very clearly about why I ran away to Toronto in the first place. 

And I'm feeling crappy right now. When I'm away, I feel like I want to go home, and that 'home' goes automatically to mom and dad. But when I'm with them, I still feel like I want to go home. Then where do I go? Then where is my home? Does that make sense?

Just... When I'm away, I seem to forget about all the things that pushed me away from them in the first place: the way my dad degrades mom, the way mom is so controlling and suspcious, the way where a fight between them could ignite at any moment, the way they argue... And how I'm stuck between it all, trying to find that impossible middle ground when they both refuse to give in. I can literally feel my stomach squeezing in anxiety when I see them disagree on something, wondering if they'll actually fight. All those things I couldn't stand so I ran away, yet it turns out that I can't do well without them either. Then what the hell do I do?

I woke up this morning I little wierdly. I think I jolted away - literally shot up from my bed - at 4 in the morning. My heart was racing a little and I was a little confused. Then I woke up at 6am. Maybe to the sounds of my mom cooking, maybe not. But it wasn't a happy morning like yesterday. I actually feel like crying a little right now... This wasn't what I expected, this wasn't what I wanted.

This wasn't the reunion with my parents like I dreamed.

This is what I purposely left behind in Vancouver. 

I'm a little confused. If my mood came down because of being around my parents, then... Where do I turn to? Where do I get my answers? Because at the moment, suddenly it feels to me like my parents' words will hold a lot less reason and sensibility.

AUGH. I just wish they'd stop... moving. It's morning, what is there so much to do? It's not like staying still for one hour will kill them. Why not enjoy the quiet for once?

Ah... and mom's habit of talking to herself. Is it to herself? Is it meant for me to hear? Am I supposed to decipher it? Why do that, if she can just tell me? 

And the way she observes me. It kills me a little on the inside too. Because... she doesn't just watch you to watch you. She watches to JUDGE you, to make a conclusion of how you are doing. And even this morning, as I'm just making tea, I felt like I was put on stage or something. Aren't I supposed to feel comfortable around them? Isn't that the point of parents? Why do I feel like I need to put my guard up around them?

And mom's suspiciouns... her suspiciouns... Her belief that someone, something out there is watching over us, threatening to wipe our entire family out. Her belief that my mistfortune is not because of the reason that I'm just at the point where I needed to face my own future, but because something else is trying to push me over the edge is almost suffocating. This has nothing to do with anything else. This is a 'me' problem, so why can't she see it as that?

The low. Here is the low. Ironically enough, the low came with my parents. Is this the way it's supposed to be? The way I'm bound to be, forever? Either crying over my abilities in school, or crying over the fact that I feel so chained when I'm with my parents? 

I woke up with a sick stomach. As I write, my heart's pouding just the tiniest bit. 

And I felt so good yesterday too. Instructors were complimenting my work, showing them off to the other classmates, and I was getting near perfect marks on my projects. I felt so good, and I was so prepared to reasonably talk to mom and show her what I've done, what I've thought... To talk about this, as mother to daughter, not as... mother-who-think-daughter-is-tortured-by-some-mysterious-force and daughter-who-can-never-accept-or-understand-mom's-thoughts.No matter how hard I tried.

I feel like throwing up.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What can I possibly do to break mom's assumptions so I can really talk to her, the mom I knew in middle school, before all this started?

What do I do about myself? 

You know what she tells me this morning? "You look better without make up." Good. Okay. Understandable. I think if my skin was better, I would agree with that statement. My face itself hasn't matured enough to fit heavy make up yet. "Don't put on make up. Only on special days. Only once in a while. Can't wear make up everyday." It doesn't sound so bad in English, but in korean, in the tone she said it, it seemed like I have no choice. It didn't seem like she even truly thought that herself - more like she has reached that conclusion from one of her impossible deductions. I had to bite my tongue and keep shut.

...I'm exhausted. This wasn't what I wanted, this wasn't what I expected.

This wasn't what I needed.