I don't know about you, but sometimes it really feels like my mother is bipolar. I hate feeling this way. There are moments when she's distant, harsh, or just… impossible to understand. And then there are times when she's so warm and loving that I almost forget the hurt—times when she feels like the real mother I've always needed.
I don't care if she thinks being rude will 'make me stronger.' It doesn't. It hurts me, and I'm tired of pretending it doesn't.
English isn't my first language, but I've spent my whole life learning it so I could write things like this—so I could express what I feel without worrying about how she'll twist my words. I just don't want to hear her say, 'You're being dramatic,' anymore.
People keep saying that Asian people are all so smart and whatever… and honestly, it hurts. I don't even know how to explain it. It's like there's this expectation hanging over me all the time—something I never asked for, something I can't live up to. And when I don't meet it, it feels like I'm disappointing everyone, including myself.
My family keeps pushing me to become something I don't want to be. My only real passion is becoming a journalist, but—like so many Asian families—they insist I should be a doctor. A doctor. As if that's the only future that matters.
I have an older brother, but he left to study in Japan for two years. I wish I could run away like he did. He gets to live his life, while I'm stuck here—still in school, taking care of my two younger siblings.
My mom just hands them to me the moment she comes home, saying she's tired from work. My father says the same, even though he only works when he feels like it. Honestly, it's bullshit.
I have piles of homework that I can't finish. On weekends, I'm looking after my siblings from morning until night. By evening, I'm so exhausted I can barely stay awake.
I'm tired. I'm glad I have friends in school, but I don't feel like I can trust them—not really.
I want to be free. I feel like I'm living in a cage, trying to be the perfect child.
My life feels like a joke, you know? I'm always trying to keep up with everyone. There was a time when I opened up to a teacher I trusted a little, and I regret it. She just laughed it off.
She's my math teacher. Back then, my score was the worst. Even the kid who always slept and skipped class got a higher score than me—the kid who slept during the test and didn't fill in anything until the bell was about to ring. He still ended up with a higher score because he looked at his friend's work.
Was it really that easy?
I got 17.
He got 30 or more—I don't even know because that time is blurry, my vision.
i feel like crying, i never cry ever since i "grow up"
and i regret that.