Welcome, July!

The month has just started, but I have an instinct that I won’t like what’s in store for me this July.

I’m not simply making assumptions, of course. Well, partly, maybe. But could you blame me? Imagine, it’s only been twelve hours since the new month entered, and so far, things aren’t what I hoped they would be. If this is only the first day, then what more could plausibly happen in a period of the next thirty days?

Or maybe it’s just my perfectly screwed-up life?

I awoke to an assaulting scream. Not what you would suppose; just my family enjoying their time watching a game show. Things were definitely normal. Not even bothering to eat breakfast, I grabbed a book and started to read, oblivious to their ceaseless laughter and musings.

Who would have thought that within thirty minutes or so, things could actually have a sudden twist?

Before I even realized it, my heart was already hammering painfully against my chest in what could only be fear. My hands were quivering as I tried to steady my book. I threw an apprehensive glance to my father, wanting to yell but had no voice to do so. Or the strength needed. He raised my guitar, sputtering curses and phrases to my brother in sheer anger. His temper ascending, he even took hold of the nearby vase – enormous and expensive one our mother desperately saved money for to buy – and was ready to hurl it.

Minutes later, I was stomping my feet up the wooden stairs, dashing to my room, the book in my hand the only source of my solace.

I don’t know whose fault it was. My brother’s definitely. He was this big mouthed jerk who sputtered rude responses and utterly snarky remarks at the wrong moment, at the wrong person. Then there was my father, the easily angered, the short-tempered one. Then my mother, one who couldn’t close her mouth at times.

My father left without another word as I ran up my room. But even though I already closed the door, I could hear the shouting downstairs between my mother and brother, both of them throwing words and accusations at one another. I wanted to yell, “Just shut up! It’s done! Father left already!” But instead, I just drowned their voices by reading aloud.

I thought then, maybe I shouldn’t just go home during weekends. If this went on, then I’d rather spend my whole college life on the dormitory. At least there were no arguments there.