Keeping it all inside because telling them how much I want to give up feels wrong.
“Home is not home anymore.” This phrase is etched into the core of my being. I have read this for thousands of times with different ways, time, and pain.
From the perspective of a girl who once lived with a perfect family in her mind then suddenly growing up and realizing that it was all just fantasies.
From the inks that has mark in a thick paper of books and has accepted that it has to bleed just to leave a mark.
From an old diary I saw under my closet that carries the pain of 13-year-old me has to carry.
Honestly, I’m at a point in my life where if someone tells me I’m lucky for having all the things I do, I’ll just scream so loud that they don’t know anything. They may know my story as the characters wheren’t hidden. They may hear some of the parts of it. But they will never be me so they will never know everything.
Growing up, I am tired of listening to what people around me say, as if I don’t understand what they are talking about just because I am a kid. Without considering that I am just a child, they should have been more careful with their words, as I am sensitive and naive.
“You are so lucky to be your parents’ daughter. You should work hard to make them proud.” These words haunt me everywhere. I should prove myself because I am their daughter. That’s my role: to make them proud. It feels like, as their daughter, I should have something to offer them.
They say things as if I will automatically forget them tomorrow, erasing them from my head. As if their words won’t make me bleed inside. As if it is my fault if their words hurt me or affect me.
As if I am a robot without any feelings. But even machines have their moments of vulnerability.
“You’re so lucky to have a complete family; how I wish I had one too.” But what’s the use of that if I, myself, am not complete? I feel so broken inside. And those words make me question: Do I really deserve this family I belong to? Is what I am offering them enough?
I have no rest; my mind, body, and soul are tired of suffering in silence. “How I wish I were you.” was the hardest compliment I have had to swallow. Because you don’t know how much I wish I hadn’t been born as who I am. You have no idea how much I cry every night, asking God why he let me experience all of this. What’s the purpose of all of this?
How can they put the blame on me? “You are already so lucky in your life; you are just dramatic, that’s why you thought life is unfair to you.” How can people say stuff like this without knowing the whole story? How can they decide how I should react to things they haven’t experienced at all? It’s my life, so I am the only one who gets to decide if I like living it or not.
“You attend a private school and have access to a good education. An award is the only thing you can give your parents in return, yet you’re still complaining that you’re drained.” Why do people who barely know us have the audacity to speak harshly? Why do they keep pointing the finger at me and pushing the narrative that I’m the bad guy? All I want is to live — just to live — without anyone cutting my wings.
“You’re an ungrateful brat. Your dad is funny and sweet, while your mom is caring and kind. Many kids out there would wish to have them as their parents instead.” Yeah, maybe I’m really an ungrateful brat. They provide me with all the things I need: shelter, care, and love. But what can a funny, sweet, caring and kind parents do if, at the end of the day, I find myself locking up in my room? Because telling them the truth that I am not as strong as they thought I am feels wrong.
Keeping it all inside is the only way I know to survive. Because how can I tell them that their independent daughter is struggling? How can I tell them that I am tired of everything? How can I tell them that I’m sick of trying to prove to others that I’m deserving of them? How can I tell them that I cry every night because people keep comparing me to others? How can I tell them the secrets that made me awake at night when the reason why I hide it is because I don’t want them to get disappointed?
How can I tell them that life is too hard on me lately? That I’m slowly losing the only thing I am good at? How can I tell them that their smart kid is losing her mind? How? I don’t even know how to communicate my feelings. So, with or without a choice, I’d still end up keeping it all inside because telling them how much I want to give up feels wrong.
Dear lovely souls,
I know that life has been incredibly challenging lately. The weight of the world seems to press down on your shoulders, and the road ahead appears daunting. But let me tell you this: you are stronger than you think. Even in the darkness, even when it feels like it’s suffocating you, you still wake up the next day, fighting against exhaustion to keep yourself from being pulled down by it.
Life is just not fair, and there are often times when it seems that the entire universe has conspired against us. However, during those dark hours, keep in mind that you are not alone. We all are traveling through this chaotic life together, falling and rising, falling and rising again.
And when the nights are darkest, and when the tears threaten to overflow, know that there is yet beauty to be found in this world. It is in the sunrise painting pink and gold to the sky, in the laugh of a child, and the warmth of the cup of tea with a friend. Hold on to these moments-they make up the threads weaving hope into the fabric of your existence.
You are not alone. You are loved. You matter.
With all my heart,
Vina
