On the Brink of Insanity

Mother’s Day? Uh, maybe not.

Before you all get on my case saying, “Hey, you know she works really hard to provide a good life for you,” I just want you to know that I KNOW; however, I feel like it still doesn’t justifies what she does and does not do. 

And yes, I know we’re Asian and I might be expecting too much but whatever. 

I thought mothers were supposed to be the shoulder for you to cry on.

No, she is the reason I cry.

I thought mothers were supposed to help you realize and achieve your dreams.

No, every single dream I had, she ripped it apart, from being a ballerina to being famous to being a designer to being an architect. 

I thought mothers were supposed to be there to help you with your problems.

No, she brushes it off and turns away. In addition, she is the cause of a majority of my problems.

I thought mothers were supposed to believe in you.

No, she believes everyone else. She believes I am out doing horrible and slutty things when in fact, I am simply mall-crawling, trying to avoid the fact that I do have to return home. She believes I’ll never amount to anything.

I thought mothers were supposed to remember the day you were born.

No, she forgot my birthday several years in a row. She claims I always forget her birthday when in fact, the last one, I spent half my paycheck buying her a present that she stuck in the closet and never looked at again. Yes, I did forget her birthday before but I was ten; give me a fucking break.

I thought mothers were supposed to be nice to the friends that are good people. 

No, she calls my best friend a slutty bitch who has no interest in school. Hello? She is a 3.8 student, 2000+ SAT score, full ride UH student and a future doctor. I don’t think she is not interested in school. As for the slut part? She always tries to save the relationships that SHOULD be ended. I’m glad she has someone good now.

I thought mothers were supposed to be rational.

Yeah. NO.

I thought mothers were supposed to meet AND THEN JUDGE your boyfriend.

No, he’s useless, ugly and bad for you. Uh, mom, when you make me feel like dying, he’s the one comforting me. He’s the one that can make me smile and forgive you. 

I should be appreciating my mom. I do, I guess. But sometimes, I feel horrid that I force myself to forgive, forget and love her even when she gives me so many reasons not to. 

Dearest Mother,

Please stop annoying the fuck out of me. 

Do you understand why I come home “late”? 

I am avoiding you. 

I actually have good days. I laugh. I be silly. I eat. I joke. I bitch. 

First of all, your definition of late is 630. Yes, I understand that coming home at 630 everyday is kind of ridiculous and irresponsible on my part.

BUT. 

This does not mean that I am out and about having sex with anyone. It does not mean I am doing drugs. 

My friends, I hang out with them because they’re funny and smart and always there. Yes, they have boyfriends. Yes, we gossip. Yes, not a lot of people love them. 

BUT THAT DOES NOT MAKE THEM OR ME A WHORE. 

THEY ARE NOT THE REASON I DON’T FOCUS THAT MUCH IN SCHOOL. I’M JUST SUPER LAZY. 

And please don’t try to wear my patience some more. I know I practically rip up your patience but when I try to make peace, don’t fucking shoot me with sarcastic UNWITTY comments. 

Stop being such an ass and listen to me for once. I know I lie a lot to you but never about the important stuff. 

Trust me a little. 

GAWD.

Sincerely, 

Your daughter who is saving money to move the fuck out. 

P.S. I love you nonetheless… DEEP DEEP DEEEEEEEEEEEP DOWN inside.

I’m quite addicted to his kisses <3

they’re the only thing in my mind. 

it’s really difficult trying to do some homework with that thought in your mind. 

but on the bright side, it’s keeping me awake.

meaning… i can be procrastinating. 

which i am….

fuck my life. 

I wish I was thinner.

Not because I’m vain and under the pressure to have a certain look. Fuck that.

I wish I was thinner.

Why, then, if not for beauty?

Because girls who look more fragile can break down and no one would think twice about it.

“Yeah, well, she’s a damsel in distress.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a fragile girl. I mean, just look at her. She can’t handle that kind of stress.”

Girls like me, though short, but not gracefully slender, those with a bit more of a curve…

People just expect us to be a bit stronger.

Now, I’m forced to wear a mask.

“Are you okay?” “Yeah, just a bit down, is all.” “Okay”

That’s it.

When people like us want to break down and cry, they’re all caught off guard. They don’t know how to respond. They don’t want to help. They want to switch the topic. To make you happy again. To help bring you back to your strong self. They want to catch you before you fall, not pick you up after you’ve hit the bottom.

What they don’t get is that some of us want to let go of everything.

To release and just fall and hit the bottom.

To feel the ground and know that the falling is done with and there’s only up from there.

Do you get it?

We just want to break down and cry. We don’t want to be caught. We want to be picked up. There’s a difference.