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A huge part of our lives are made up of the many times we try not to disappoint other people. Is it the Asian culture of duty and obligation? Maybe. To date, I’ve spent a hell lot of my time trying to be a better person. But better is never enough because nothing is ever enough.

“Want more and more.. people just want more and more…”

I do try. Most of the time. And when I don’t are the moments when I feel like giving up.

When I was younger, life seemed less complicated. It was easy to get angry. Too easy in fact. I swore at my mom once. She cried. I broke her heart and I didn’t even know it. Dad made me apologize. I did it reluctantly. Still angry. But I never did it again.

As I grew older, I learned to keep quiet. To let things blow over silently. I wonder how Dad does it. Every single time I feel like screaming. And not always I kept my mouth shut. Dad never says much. The only time he ever said anything I did not know how to respond. “There must be a psychological solution to this.”

I lied. I did know how to respond. What I did not know, was how to put it.

You need to talk to her. Teach her the things she doesn’t know. Make her feel like a part of your life. Don’t shut her out. ‘You don’t understand’ just won’t cut it anymore.

I want to blame her for how I feel about myself. I’m not strong enough to believe in myself. My weaknesses are her weaknesses. She’s not proud of me. And I’m not proud of her.

God help me.. these are terrible things to say. But I do think them and I want to believe they are true everytime she opens her mouth

I hate dodging people who I think wouldn’t understand. I hate having her tell me about all the other beautiful daughters. I hate it when she points out all the other “imperfect” people hoping to make me feel small. I hate walking by her side just so she won’t feel humiliated to be seen with me. I hate it when she screams at me for being fat and stupid. I hate her constantly asking me if I’d lost any weight every single week. I hate it when she tells all my friends to watch what I eat. I hate trying not to make her more disappointed than she already is.

I don’t want to cry but I can't stop. Tears are part of my venting but I try very much not to let you see. It wouldn’t do to let you know how much weaker I am than you already think.