It bothers me, the way it seems I'm only good for one thing. All these new year parties, with all your friends... you urge me to go, and I'm starting to think that the only good thing you see in me is my looks. So you can show others: "This is my daughter. Ta-whoopdee-fucking da."
Look, I'm not going to deny it. I'm not an ugly person. But it's somewhat degrading, and it hurts just a little when it's the only thing you're proud of (and the only thing I'm good for, at this point).
Is it the only thing you're proud of?
It's not hard to believe, since you imply that my existence is a mistake. Maybe you didn't mean it to sound so harsh, but you can't joke around about that. I'm not a moron. Do we--...no do I bring you to that point? Don't group me into a label that I'm not a part of.
Perhaps you just want to complain, but I always hear things like this coming out of your mouth: "It's so nice to not have children." "Children are pains". "Don't have children". "You are so lucky, Mrs. and Mr. Childless". "We could have been living in luxury".
Was it my fault for being born? You decided to have such a responsibility, not me. I didn't ask for you two to have sex and I didn't ask for your sperm and your egg to meet, and I didn't ask for you to decide to get preggers and have another child. I am not responsible for the creation of myself.
I will admit responsibility for my actions, but not for my birth. Don't go around whining how hard it is to have a child. You are responsible for that... You can have regrets, but don't mention this in front of me so often that I question your view of me. I feel like a nuisance.
Furthermore, I am not another parent for my older brother. I don't know what made you to think this way. I act as his older sibling already, but I'm not mature enough to act like a second mother to this boy.
Yes, our situation is different. I've heard that so many times: don't get angry, you know how he is. Don't be mad, be patient, let him do what he wants, let him choose first, let him be our first priority.
Enough of this bullshit, because I'm a child too. Though he's gone off to college, you still fixate on him. You spare a little time here and there to make sure I'm making my grades. You'd think that after he's gone off, I'd get a little more attention.
And it's not like I've been silent regarding this total unfairness. It's not a whiny thing. I'm not an this-is-all-me person (this blog may seem like it, but it is my blog, no?) . I just want a little more of your attention, is that too much to ask?
I am a normal 17-year-old girl, who has a (self-diagnosed) slight deficit of love and attention. You can't expect me to act better than you do. You can't expect me to know what's on your mind. I'm not all that self-sacrificing, that I'm going to spend my time worrying over his needs.
I'm sorry for being blunt, but I feel that you guys could really care less. It's only your innate sense of responsibility that makes you check up on me seldomly. Take this winter break as an example: you only check up on me when it's time to eat. I could be playing games all day, and you wouldn't even notice. And I do, just because I can. I don't do a thing, just because I can. A little part of me wants you to notice, but if you do you never say a thing about it.
Call it immature rebellion, but I blame everything on you. It's not a teenager thing. It's not a phase.
The biggest argument I've had was so silly. It was over college applications. How can you disregard my input and expect me to bend to your will? How can you act normally and pretend nothing happened afterwards? How can you be so quick to assume that I've gone off and ran away... Did I do anything bad? Did I do anything that terrible...
How can you be so disruptive at that crucial time? My getting a good (well, better) score on the SAT's was a stroke of luck, because I kind of wanted to screw it over at the end. I didn't put any effort in my applications, because you had such an explosive reaction to something so minimal as going out for a breath of fresh air and a place to study.
What is it to you... Perhaps my intentions get lost because of the difficulties of translating it into your language. Maybe you just don't understand. But the scary thing is, I don't think you ever wanted to.
The only person I cherish is my grandmother.
If she passes away, I will really feel utterly alone in this world.
I can't bring myself to appreciate my parents. There are definite moments when I'm happy, but there are more moments when I'm stressed, annoyed, vengeful.
I envy that girl, the family we just went to. She has everything I want.
Maybe it's because she's rich.
"Look, she's cooking for the party." I want to cook, do you even know that? You praise her, but cooking abilities stem from mothers who teach. She has a pantry of ingredients, a drawer of measuring cups, cutting knives, cake decorations. Whatever, guys. You complain when I buy a bag of cake mix.
And then an easel. I'm still vengeful that you made me quit art. I think I'll always be vengeful, because it was one thing I was naturally good at.
And then instruments of all kinds.
A study room.
Pets: dogs, cats.
A telescope.
A camera.
Do you even know what I want? And when you do, how long does it take you to make an effort to get it?
I'm a growing adult. I'm not asking for things I'll never use again. I'm developing interests... I'm not a child asking for a toy. I enjoy art and I like music. I would like to start reading again. I can only work in quiet places. I like the color yellow. Get to know me, please.
The only way out that I can think of is to get a job and get a car. Then, my life is in my hands.
