Of all the people that I could hate the most, I find it funny that it is my grandmother. Call me disrespectful, but I don’t care. I am a person living in democracy who has the freedom to feel everything he wants to whoever he wants. Of course, I am a rational person- everything has a reason.
My grandmother, she very different to yours. My grandmother hates this family, hates everything. Whenever she comes home, she’d just storm in the door and ask us questions with the tone like we are her enemies event though we did nothing to her. I don’t know what’s happened to her. Maybe she’s getting crazy or something. I don’t know; if there’s one thing I only know, it is that I hate her. She always complains all the time. That’s pathetic! She’s the elder one and yet, most of the time, she calls it childish. It’s not young at heart, because I know people who are young at heart, and they’re nothing similar to my grandmother. What’s more, she hates everything we do- the way we talk, the way we laugh, what we use, all of it! I just hate her. I miss my mother. I hope she’s here always. Being with my grandmother, feels like I’m being in a prison. And she’s the warden, but, not just any warden, she’s like campe, the warden of the hetakonchires from the Greek Mythology.
Readers,if you’re reading this, I’m not a bad man. I’m just reacting to my environment, my environment who misunderstands me.
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