|Not Good Enough
Author: Taim PM
Random rantings of anger and depression. Read it if this is your thing. Or don't. Not like I really care right now. T just in case.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Family - Chapters: 3 - Words: 1,685 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 01-16-13 - Published: 10-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3067801
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I know none of you even care about my life. I mean, c'mon, why the heck would you? I'm just another writer with a bunch of useless words to put on paper. Heck, it's not even paper anymore. I type it all and press send and woosh! it's just another URL. Why do I even matter? No one will remember me when I'm gone, no one's gonna care. I'm just another stupid girl that will do nothing with her life. All I want right now is just sleep and pretend I'm someone else, someone who can go through all the pain and hate and rage and still be important to the story. I don't even have a story anymore. Eh, who am I kidding? I never had a story. I'm just another person out of seven billion. Who would even notice me?
Oh, and to you, Mom, you're so nice. You can be sweet and loving and perfect to me, but then you can be so hurtful and angry. Really, who wants to walk into a room and try to have some kind of relationship with their mother, then have her treat them like they're stupid. I get it, you're tired, SO AM I! I'm tired of never doing enough; I'm tired of being told to grow up in one sentence, then the next be "You're only a kid once." I am so sick and tired of all of it!
No, I'm not perfect. And I know you know it, you point it out enough. You say you don't expect me to be perfect, then why do you treat me like I'm stupid and useless and pathetic and like I'll never be good enough for you to love me. I've typed it enough times before, so why can't I finally get it out and just say it to your face? All I do is act like everythings okay, even when I'm falling apart and all I want is to dissappear. I have to now. I tried talking to you before, the last time I felt this way. I told you I wanted to kill myself. And then what happens, huh? You yell at me and tell me to stop being dramatic and to grow up! I am growing up Mom, but it's hard when all you do is yell at me no matter what I do. I am making above a 105 in a class everyone else is failing. And is that good enough?
No, of course not. Cause it's me and I'm never good enough! I never am and never will be. I get that. But you can at least love me for trying, for doing the best I can. Now it's gotten to the point where I'm scared to tell you anything, where I'm scared to look at my report cards and see a 99 because it's not high enough for you to be happy with. I'm scared to take a step anywhere near you because I think you're gonna blow up at me. I just want to be safe and feel loved by someone other than my boyfriend. He was the one who made me feel beautiful because I am.
You made me be beautiful because you want people to see me and think that you're such a wonderful mother. You don't want them to judge you through me. I can't wear my hair in a ponytail because it makes me look lazy. I can't wear my hair down because it's naturally flat. I can't curl it because my hair won't hold curl. I won't follow the trends because they all look stupid on me. I look better with my flat-topped ponytail than I do with a 'bump' or a 'tease.' My hair doesn't bump, my hair doesn't tease. Can't you understand that? And it's not my fault my hormones go into overdrive and make my hair oily in some spots. You don't know how hard I've scrubbed at it and how much of it I've pulled out just trying to make it go away so you will finally look at me and not say "It looks nasty and dirty! Do you even wash it?" I wash it every day! I scrub at it and pull it out every day. I do everything I can to make you happy! I've hit myself with a brush repeatedly because when I brush my hair, it only makes me look worse. But is that possible for you? Of course not! You're so perfect, so beautiful. You can't do any wrong! And I'm just the mistake, the screw up, the one who is never good enough. The one that isn't perfect.
I can't change anymore Mom. If I do, it'll kill me. That's the only thing I have left to change. I can't change my personality. I've already done that. I can't change how I look. Already done that. I can't change who I talk to. Everyone hates me for trying. I can't change who I love. He's my everything. I can't change anything else about me except that I'm alive. That's the only thing left for me to change. And I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to give into you. Yes, I'll change as much as I can about myself and keep changing, but I won't give into that. I have too much to live for, whether or not I'm perfect. I'm perfect in other people's eyes, even if not in yours. I'm not sorry for that.
And I love you Mom. I do. You're great to me when I need you. You just don't realise how much pressure you've put me under. I have to be in yearbook (first sophmore to be in that class in a very long time!), I have to make all A's, I have to be in Honor Society (I'm only human, yes I'm going to want to relax for one day.), I have to be beautiful! (I know I'm beautiful now. :) ) I just want to make you happy.
And no, it's not you. I'm putting myself under a lot of pressure too. I keep telling myself I have to be perfect when I know i don't. I respect you Mom, so much so that I'd do near anything to make you happy with me. I'd say proud, but you know how I am with that word, so I'll say pleased instead.
I'm not blaming you. I know you just want to make me feel good and confident and secure, but I'm just naturally not. I'll do the best I can and then get mad at myself for not doing any better. And then I transfer it to you. I know you're not really like this, but I always transfer it to you. I'm sorry. I don't mean to, but it's easier than hating myself any more. Thank you for all that you've done and I love you so much Mom. I love you more than I can ever tell you.
Well, thank you all for listening to my rant and I think I just worked out most of my problems with my mom. In my head. Without her knowing. Oh gosh, I'm messed up.
Anyways. Continue on with your lives and forget this happened.
This message will self destruct in 10 seconds.