My home

[Leslie Cheung 张国荣 - 有心人]

Having given the opportunity to leave Singapore for my college education, there were times when I missed the comforts of home terribly.

BUT

Now that I'm sick (and en route to recovery), I can't help but see this place as a prison.

Yes I may be clothed, fed, clean and I get to do pretty much whatever I want (as long as it's within the boundaries of these walls and the facilities that were given to me), but the fact that this place is run by a fucking communist and a mood-swinging grunt sickens me. Not to mention the fact that my fellow "in-mate" isn't around...

I can't go out even though I feel fine because of SOME TYRANT's "perception" that I'm still sick.
I'm asked to revise my Japanese so that I don't "go out so often".
Whatever that's asked or expected of me is not out of love but to keep the money that's spent on me on a minimum low and to chain me to this place.

Tell me... What kind of place is this?

Perhaps even prison wardens might be even more loving and caring... I rather get stuck in a cave then be at this... this disgusting place that society calls "home". Seriously!

The other day, a colleague of mine when asked to join us for lunch said that she's got her dinner from the night before 'cos her mom scolded her for missing dinner. If I'm not wrong, she's above 30. I admire how filial she is but I can't do it. I think if I was her, I'd throw the dinner away in front of my mom's face or if I'm in a bad mood, in her face even.

Really... I can't wait to leave this place permanently and I promise you, I won't FUCKING look back.

Yes. Nobody will and can dictate me. NOBODY.