Mask It All Away

( November 13, 2006)

At this point in time, I am not liking the way my life has been going right now. I admit I do have some partial blame for this, but there are others that I feel that they’re in the wrong because of expecting too much out of me. What can I do? You can’t expect me to excel in school on a daily basis, you can’t expect me to be the child you wanted me to be, and you can’t expect me to be sociable while I’m trying to be good enough for you by academics alone.

I’m not God, you know. Mind you, I’m a human just like you, who has emotions and dreams and hopes. And with those comes a limit as to how much a person can do. I already feel like I’m at the end of my rope. I know I don’t help around the house all that much if not at all, I know that. But that’s because I’m trying to work hard for you to make you happy.

But, no matter how much I try, it’s not enough for you, is it?

You have no idea how much you frustrate me from how you always want things to be so perfect just because you’re a perfectionist to lecturing (more like guilt-tripping) me when it comes to telling me on how much of a hard life you had in the Philippines and, despite all of that, you worked your way up by being a straight A student who was a valedictorian in her graduating high school class, and made it here to the United States as a nurse in 1986.

I’m not you, okay?! I’m not you at all! I know you’re not pushing me to be a nurse anymore, but you can’t just hurt me by calling me a slacker when I’m trying to work hard so I can stay here.

And right now, ever since you even had the notion to forcefully send me back to the Philippines next year for my college education (which it had been quite a while since you even established it, yesterday making it sound like you made it as a final decision), I feel like I have no say in this. Hell, this is MY life, isn’t it? You can’t send me back against my will, especially since I’ll be eighteen next year. You just can’t do that.

And if you do, I’m going to have to take drastic measures. Tomorrow, I shall begin applying to colleges, take the SATs, talk to my counselor on what to do for myself as this is my last high school year, and the like. And besides, your sending me back is, ironically enough, my motivation to work harder until I’m at my limit. That’s how little you know about me and what my inspiration is to have me strive at goals that may seem impossible now, but will be believable in the future.

Then, why don’t you believe in me anymore?

Why is it that I have no choice in this matter when this is my future we’re talking about? Why do you always have to look at me as if I don’t care about my future when I actually do? Why do you always have to make me feel so worthless when it comes to you reprimanding me time and time again or that you compare me to my friends (or even, despite our five year difference, my younger brother) without even realizing what emotional damage you’ve caused?

Why do you always do this to me? Am I not your daughter? Don’t you love me, no matter what? Don’t you want me to be happy?

Then, why do I always wind up hurt on whatever it is you say when the subject is about school? Why is it that I feel so worthless? Why is the low self-esteem, and lack of self-confidence, still there?

Why… Why do I feel like that I’ve not been the perfect child for you all along?