It's the beginning of the year, and I fear my dad's wrath. Mondays especially, when he lectures me about what to do with my life, I stay out of his way. I got all lost in the episodes, wishing my life were half decent, yet I knew I was unable to afford each girl's lifestyles. My mom wanted me to wash the dishes, but I forgot. Since I burned very few calories yesterday, I ate very little. I also remembered that I could've stepped out into the fierce winter weather, struggling through the snow to pay my membership bill, yet didn't. I plan to do that today, if my dad hurries quick enough and gives me a ride. He was laying on the couch all day, like he were sick or something. I don't know why I feel the need to be afraid of my dad. In my imagined scenarios, he utters one syllable that provokes me to lash out and empty my frustrated brain all over him, but I don't and stay in my room. He probably has no clue about me. I know he doesn't. I don't think I have a real clue about him, otherwise we'd click better. Just because you're born in the same family, doesn't mean you're compatible. I don't know why I'm afraid of him, but I am. To open myself up and talk to him is to make myself vulnerable to his brutish style of chit-chat, leaving me confused and wounded. I sometimes compare us to David and Goliath, but I'm without a sling, without a weapon of defense. He's an old man who'll be gone at any moment, yet I bet he'll still have a hold over me long after. I always feel like a little kid towards my dad. I'll never feel like an adult.