"Our lives begin to end the day we start keeping silent about things that matter."
Does it really? Begin to end that day? What about the day, when you've bled yourself dry TELLING people about things that really matter, and STILL see no sign of acknowledgement or change?
When do parents stop listening? When do they start filtering so that they hear just what they like? When even laying things down like they are, crying your heart out in front of them bring out no
I've cried.
I've yelled.
I've put into words everything YOU were supposed to have seen for yourself. That you should have gathered by reading between the lines. That you should have heard, when I was trying to talk. I made it easier for you, I spelt it out. Not once, not twice, not a hundred- but at least ten times.
And still you continue to ignore the fact that there IS something wrong. I know, that there is. I even know WHAT it is. But somehow, you seem to think that it's all a figment of my over active imagination- even after you've seen the pain written on my face.
You haven't even TRIED to change your ways. You haven't tried to lessen the burden that I carry. You haven't started talking more, snipping less. You haven't started sharing more, complaining less. You haven't started letting me live more, letting yourself live more.
Every self derogatory remark you've passed- I've considered my responsibility. I've even made it my business to see that you don't have to ever repeat it. What about the ones I've made about myself? What have you done with those?
I've had to sit and write letters to you, so that you could KNOW what I really had to say. WHY I was doing what I was doing. WHY I wasn't doing what I wasn't doing. HOW I realized what I wanted to do.
At first I thought it was all in my head. That reading too many books, had imprinted on my mind what "happily ever after" would look like. But as I've grown, I've realized that everyone has their own versions of "happily ever after". There are no definite s. And hence, when you never asked what I wanted from life, when you never asked why I wanted what I did want; what made me choose one value over another; what made me choose the design for the kitchen I wanted in my dream house- I figured it was okay. I wondered. I hoped that you would ask, yes. But I also made excuses for you.
The other day, when my aunt asked me what my house would look like, when she actually listened to it, and told me that I would not only have all of that, but more, something in me died. Another part of me died.
And still, instead of blaming you, or cursing you, I sit here hating myself for even actually putting all of this down on paper, even as I do. With every word that I type, I'm making excuses for you. Justifying your actions. Telling myself, that you are just different parents. Everyone is different.
Should I be doing that? Should I, a twenty year old, be doing that? Should I, a twenty year old, have been doing that for the better part of my life?
I don't know what an achievement feels like. I don't know what a million other feelings, that I should have felt by now, feel like. I know what they are SUPPOSED to feel like, but I haven't felt them.
Don't get me wrong. I've felt happiness, yes. But not at the usual you-bought-me-an-ipod for my birthday happiness, as you would expect a normal child to feel. I've felt happy on the odd day that you both have spoken to each other. I've felt happy and safe on the odd day that I've walked into your room in the morning, to see you two snuggled up together. On the odd occasion that I've seen you poke fun at each other.
Do you see where all this is wrong? Do you see a twenty year old anywhere in all of this? No, I didn't think so.
I'm NOT supposed to ACCOMODATE your feelings, YOU are supposed to accomodate MINE. I'm NOT supposed to be watching my words, YOU are supposed to be watching yours- to protect me. You are supposed to be protecting me from getting hurt, instead of the other way.
-----------------------
It seems important to get all of this down on paper once and for all- because unless I'm using my hands to key in what the voices in my head are saying, I'm suffocating. I've tried. I've tried a million times to be fair to you- and not give words to what these voices are saying- because it would seem almost like I'm disrespecting you, or what you stand for. I'm not.
But if you really are the roles that you have been given to play, then you will understand why this was necessary. I love you. I just wish I didn't have to act grown up all the time.
