i admit that i did it. it was oddly satisfying because i hadn't been able to do so for the last ten times i had tried to cry over a month ago, but I cried today. not in huge sobs or an outburst of tears creating a puddle on the floor. beads of wetness rolled down my cheeks from each eye, to get mopped up a few seconds later by my sleeve. my mother saw me crying as she monitored me like she always does while i was studying geography. she didn't say anything about it or do anything about it. she did nothing.

about ten minutes behorehand i had been quietly studying geography when she had come across and accused me of not reading it properly. first my position wasn't proper, then i wasn't awake enough, then i didn't look enthusiastic enough and finally she accused me of looking like i was studying because i had to rather than because i wanted to. quite frankly, i was sick of this rubbish from her over the past few days, always nagging and picking at me and so i told her straight.
i don't care about what you think anymore. i'll just study the way i want.
and then she flipped. she started yelling, and my father came in and told her that this wasn't what he wanted to happen jsut two days before the biggest exams in my life. but she wouldn't stop. the things she had complained about a few seconds earlier, she now started screaming at him.
my father rightly decided that this wasn't the best working environment for me and told me to take my books and go into the next room and so i got up. my mother, on the other hand ordered me to sit back down on the chair and study geography with her. my fathered told me to go in the same calm voice that i sometimes use with emotionally unstable people. my mother again told me to sit down. again my father told me to leave. my mother grabbed the entire geography folder (containing my own notes plus those she had gathered for me over the past month, whether i wanted them or not) and threatened to tear them up and burn them. she then smashed the folder with all her strength against the wooden table and added that if i left the room, she would leave this family and go back to her own. my mother glared straight at me and told me to sit down, now. my father once again told me to leave.

what is one meant to do in such a position? when sitting down would mean defying my father and succumbing to the brutality of my temporarily deranged mother? giving in to threats and being submissive is not one of my known trait. most of my friends are quite aware of my temper and the problems that stem from it.
when she had smashed the folder agains the table, i felt something in me become reborn, like some sort of sick twisted phoenix, not an elegant bird born from flames but the grotesque beast that was my aggression. within seconds i realised that i had stopped slouching and looking upset. my back had straightened, my eyes had grown wider and my heart started to beat faster. i was going to wrestle the folder from her, no matter what it took. not only because i couldnt let her destroy my exam notes but because i wanted to show that she couldn't control me like that. i knew that now was the time where i had to give in to my wanting to tackle her to the ground and beat her black and blue for all the time i had been oppressed by her. all the times she had freaked out like this and blamed me for absolutely everything. but something in the back of my mind stopped me. it stopped me and said that she wasn't acting like a normal person would. therefore, she doesn't deserve such a punishment.
i calmed down.
but the dilemma remained the same. my parents, unaware of the dangerous edge i had almost jumped off of, continued to instruct me to do their bidding. if i sat down, i would be subject to my mother's tantrum firsthand. if i left the room, i would be obeying my father (who was clearly the most sane of all of us at this point) and doing the logical thing, but my mother would probably try and leave the family.
i stayed standing.

a few seconds later, i was trying to read my geography notes again. my mother was sitting across from me and accusing me of not wanting to study, wanting to fail, causing the argument and not immediately obeying her instruction to sit back down. i ignored her. i tried to read the notes but my mind was on the integrity of this family unit. my mother started snapping at me, saying i had been reading the same page for the last fifteen minutes. i thought of explaining to her that i had other things on my mind but then thought better of it.
it was then that i noticed a blurry patch in my field of vision towards the lower left part of my eye. i wondered what it was, and then realised it was a tear. i was confused. i wasn't entirely sure why i would cry but i was determined to keep that tear in my eye and off of my cheek. seventeen year old boys don't cry because their mother shouted at them. i kept searching though, in my mind for what it was that i was crying about. and then i realised what all my thoughts were unconsciously being directed at. it was the concept that i did not love my mother, no matter how much she had done for me. she raised me and taught me and gather notes for me and tried to make me better in every way, but i couldn't love her for the simple fact that in my mind, rightly or wrongly, all the bad times she had instigated severly outweighed anything good i could remember. that's what i was so upset about.
i let the tear trickle down. she didn't flinch.

afterwards i went to sleep for a while and according to my father she was upset when she realised the way she had behaved and she was almost in tears herself. maybe i should be more understanding of the strange way she behaves nowadays, but this information failed to evoke any sympathy from me.
my father says afterwards that it didn't used to be like this. before my mother suddenly changed, this family was happy and there were rarely ever any shouts or fights or freak outs. however, i honestly have no recollection of the days before it was like it is now.

i'm going to be leaving this family by the end of this year. i'm not sure if i'm worried about what the family will be like without me, or whether i'll be happy to be separated from the madness.
if there is a god, he's a bastard.