I wanted to die. I wanted to die because of all the wrongs things that I have done. I wanted to die because of all the wrong things that I will do later on. It wasn’t suppose to be this way. I wasn’t suppose to be raised this way. I never should have been here. I should be someplace else.
As I watched the car drive away from my grandma’s house, I kept crying and up to this day I don’t know exactly. What I felt can’t be describe in words. All remembered thinking was being scared. A part of it was just being terrified because I’m not going to be with my grandma anymore, and the other part of it was, I’m scared of things that might happen. As I look into my parents’ eyes as they pulled me away from her, something about it doesn’t seem right. Maybe all I remember about my mother was her getting upset and mad at everything else. I can still remember this one time that she got mad, who knows why, and I felt that everything was just dark. Imagine a 7 years old kid, hiding inside a cabinet while all she could her is her mom’s yelling and screaming. I have forgotten what she was screaming about or why she is mad, but the feeling that I felt cannot be describe in words. A little 7 years old shouldn’t experience that. It was afternoon that day, and something about that day made an impact on me that I could never forget. To her it might just be a normal thing, and for the most part it is normal to get mad. But something that day changed. They way I looked at her changed, maybe it was even before that day. She’s always negative about everything, she gets mad ‘just because’. That’s what I’ve learned by just observing her. I didn’t learn from her constant screaming; instead, I learned from her behaviour and how she handled things. I could vividly remember how she went after me as I was sweeping the floor, she tore my pink dress and she’s screaming again. She’s probably mad because I’ve done something bad to my sister. I won’t deny it; I’ve always been jealous at her. Who can blame me? I didn’t ask for them to take me with them. I didn’t want any of that. I wish they could just let my grandma adopt me before she left for America. I’ve always wanted that since I was a kid. I still do, but the damage has been done. All those years that I could be learning and improving myself better is gone. Gone because I feel like all my parents did was take away my confidence in myself. I don’t have any of that. All I can remember was them always talking about how great my sister is. Now tell me how am I suppose to love her, when they have imprinted it in my mind that she’s my competition. They could deny it, but I know there has always been a favoritism in this family ever since. I don’t feel their love. Do you think when they by me new clothes I’m going to feel that “Oh they understand me. They understand what I’m going through.” No, they don’t and I think they’ll never be. I could only remember once, only once that my mother has helped me emotionally. When I got bullied in 6th grade, she was there when I needed someone to talk to. She was there when I was crying. But she imprinted something on me that I don’t know if should be thankful of. She taught me how to start hating people. That might not be her intention at all. But that’s how I felt. And that’s how I acted.
Now that I’m 18 years old, they expect me to be confident about myself. They expect me to be better at doing things and to start doing better is to have confidence that I could do it. But how can I? How can I when almost my whole entire life, I’ve watched her cry a thousand times about little things. How can I, when I had spent numerous times listening to her talking about what’s going to happen when she’s dead. Every time she’s sick, I always find her in isolation, crying. She’s going to talk to me, to take care of my sister when she’s gone, to study hard and that I’m probably going to forget her as time passes. Worrying is normal when you’re sick, but is it ideal to talk with 7 years old child regarding death? Now tell me, how can I be confident? My entire life I’ve watched her do things for me. I’ve watched her do everything for me. Her intentions are good, but did she ever think of how will it affect it? I feel that in order to help your children further in life, it starts by training them during childhood. I remember when we still have a maid in the house, I would still volunteer to wash the dishes. I wanted to, but they said I can’t. Now I’m 18 years old, I don’t want to do chores anymore, but they keep telling me I should.
My mind is in constant battle. There are times that I strongly feel that I should just perish away. Well, that’s all I ever hear. I have no purpose. I told them I wanted to do things, I wanted to engaged into other activities, But they said I can’t. I shouldn’t. I should just stay at home, help them out. But how can I? When I heard everything that I needed to know. When they told me I’m never going to be useful around the house, I’m selfish, I’m lazy, and they should never expect things from me again. How does that help me in any way? Reverse psychology doesn’t work every single time, sometimes, it just ruins the family because it pushes people away. It shames children, thus pushing them further away. Nobody is perfect. Perfect parents don’t exist and I understand that. But I feel like, they think they are helping me by saying those hurtful things, but all they ever did was destroy my confidence in myself, that I should have now that I’m older, instead now I’m having a hard time loving and appreciating myself. And I keep asking God for his guidance everyday, I wish for just one reason to be keep going. Just one reason why I shouldn’t kill myself. There are those days when I can’t find any reason, and I just want to get run over by a car or get pushed off in a cliff or get poisoned. I just wanted the earth to swallow me whole.