I don't know what it is about living at home that makes me a complete and utter bitch. And I have just lived alone for a year; so what could have happened in the meantime, such that everything my parents do, now grates on my nerves?
I mean, my bad mood at them is not even related to them pestering me about marriage. It could be an innocuous question about where I'm going and what time I will be back (and really, where do I even go except for work meetings), or some long discussion about something I said myself (say I described a particularly idiosyncratic colleague to my mother and she repeats that to my father, in front of me, with inadvertent inaccuracies or deliberate embellishments), or just some wishful thinking on the part of my mother - about how she would come with me if I moved back to Chennai.
All of it, for some reason, feels like a violation of my life and personal space. And all this talk makes me feel weirdly nauseous, like the walls are closing in.
And they haven't even done anything wrong.
I mean, my bad mood at them is not even related to them pestering me about marriage. It could be an innocuous question about where I'm going and what time I will be back (and really, where do I even go except for work meetings), or some long discussion about something I said myself (say I described a particularly idiosyncratic colleague to my mother and she repeats that to my father, in front of me, with inadvertent inaccuracies or deliberate embellishments), or just some wishful thinking on the part of my mother - about how she would come with me if I moved back to Chennai.
All of it, for some reason, feels like a violation of my life and personal space. And all this talk makes me feel weirdly nauseous, like the walls are closing in.
And they haven't even done anything wrong.
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