I hate getting mad. I hate feeling pissed off. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

It just begins from a little sour spot. Then it swells up and fills up your head with all the times you have been mad because of the very same situation. It’s my second to last week of summer, can I please not be told how fucking horrible I am for one day?? I just want to make it through breakfast without being told how hopeless I am and how I’ll ultimately end up being nothing and you will have to feed me for the rest of your lives because I won’t be able to make a comfortable living.

I don’t think you understand. No. This is the start of the college application season, I’m sifting through myself and trying to find colleges that are right for me. I really don’t need someone to tell me how much I fucked up on a daily basis. I visited my dream school and realized I can’t leave you guys behind. What I get in turn is a summary of all the mistakes I made on my trip. Oh, I’m sorry, we couldn’t find the rental car return for an hour because I didn’t use google maps on my phone? I can’t even install google maps on this stupid thing.

This feeling of anger just boils over day after day and then you ask why I’m being such a rebellious child. Here’s why. When I failed a class after studying for it night after night, you as parents shouldn’t have poured salt on the wound by telling me I’m just stupid and I just ruined my chance of getting into college. When I hit the lowest GPA in my life because of all the AP classes I was taking, you shouldn’t have told me I’m stupid and just another kid you guys failed to educate properly. When I worked all summer and bought my own damn plane ticket to Emory I didn’t need you to tell me that it’s a horrible school because “I’ve never heard of it”. I’m sick and done with how many times you push me down.

Maybe when I actually get obnoxious and conceited I’ll need a check. But I don’t need another push when I already feel like shit and cried for days straight. Do you realize how ironic it is when you ask me “Why is it that half the time your self esteem is so high, and then you sink into ridiculous self-loathe?”. THAT’S WHAT YOU PROGRAMMED ME INTO DOING. When I’m good at something, you remind me constantly there’s people better than me. When I stay out late because of xc or school you yell at me for not having a good sense of time. When you see me on the computer you automatically assume I’m browsing reddit and messaging people on facebook. Why do you have to do this? It’s like it doesn’t even matter what I do because in your eyes, I’m already a complete failure. I feel like because I didn’t live up to your expectation of a 4.0, 2400, all around perfect little girl, I’m worth nothing.

The only reason why I even have whatever self-esteem I have is because there are other people who tell me I’m okay. Dad, mom, I know you guys will love me unconditionally and will take me in even if I do become homeless and unemployed. But stop forcing whatever you guys never achieved on me. I am graduating high school this year, and quite frankly, it’s not like either of you know what I’m going through. This is a different age, we may not walk 5 miles to school everyday, but we voluntarily run 6+ miles most days after school. We may not have to help our parents with farm work, but we do our gardening in APES and volunteering. We may not be taking care of little siblings and supporting the entire family, but we are working our way through the American education system and trying to live your American dream.

It’s hard mom and dad. It’s really hard. So please, the next time you tell me about how low-achieving and ungrateful I am, please understand I love you guys and I’m grateful about being able to live in America, but I am a different person, I want to realize my own dream.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s