Dear Diary,
I think I understand pain. Not just the idea of it, but truly understand pain. I am aware people think that I am devoid of emotions , work or tendency to care.They think I swim around in lethargy and drown in luxury and comfort and that I couldn’t know sadness or pain. But, there is much more to pain than the physical manifestation of it. But for pity’’s sake, agony and anguish is only recognised when you play it according to theatrics and strong claims. It seems as if there are unwritten rules universally acknowledged that classifies pain to be something only middle aged adults with children ,debts and stress can go through. As for dumb un-level headed teenagers like me, it seems that the only emotion I’m allowed is regret and disappointment in myself. I’m only allowed to apologise to my parents for being a difficult child, not hold them accountable for the pressure they put me through. I’m only allowed happiness , not sadness because I’m financially dependent on them. Im allowed agreements, not opinions because every adult reminds me that my opinion can’t possibly be correct because I’m young. And when it comes to mistakes , I’m simply not allowed to have them. There is only room for faults. And other than that the most important thing I’m allowed to express is satisfaction. I am immediately required to accept everything they give me and not complain. Its basically as if I should step and fit into this carved cutout they’ve specifically created for me and not complain and just simply be the perfect daughter. All I’ve been told is my parents know much better? But do they? When they’re political view perfectly align with nationalists from the sixties and easily believe everything they’ve read on the media? When their marriage was so terrible and they’ve spent their years on competing and resentment. But yes , they do know much better than me apparently. What hurts me the most is how they perceive my want to be alive and human. My laughter is atrocity and careless. My ability to use humour and not give much thought to what people think of me is interpreted as laziness. My silence is intrepreted as pointless resistance. My words fall on deaf ears and is seen as act of stupidity and arrogance. Its almost as if every part of my individual existence is set to be wrong or despised. I’ve always felt like I’m incapable of doing anything right and all I ever do is mess things up. It was very ,very hard to appreciate myself and develop self esteem. I literally grew up hating myself from the very the beginning . I felt like all I was supposed to do is lack. It was a pretty difficult to understand and create an identity for myself and develop interests and likes. I was brought up in such an environment that I had to get approval for watching and liking things. There are times my mom watches watch shows and instruct me not to watch them because the spread “bad messages”.So I grew doubting everything around me and being confused for the most part. And hence , whenever I am at home all I can feel is pressure . There’s pressure to eat, sleep and exist. Every minute action, mannerism and speech should be executed perfectly. If i dont sleep or act well, they make it into crime against my existence. Like how dare i act that way right and they connocot that into this entire narrative of how much it's hurting them.Even if i do end up confessing, they turn and twist the knife around and make it about something being wrong with me for thinking that way about them. Like it's my fault for having those thoughts. I've been to psychiatrists before who advised, and in most of the car rides back it was always them bemoaning about using therapy as an excuse to complain about my parents, me not listening to them and me being problematic, ungrateful etc... I can't even be honest or do things my way,because just recently, my mom made me out to be the reason for her not concentrating on work.Like since i'm not eating well or listening to her or eating well, I'm the reason for her poor performance. They say they love me but I've grown up beleiving I was the cause of their suffering. I can't emphasise enough that i can't be honest with them without me feeling like the bad guy. Like when i confess about feeling inadequate , they turn it around and make it into this question of why are you feeling that way or who told you to? It's 2020 and parents still remain highly ego centric, with them failing to see or even come close to acknowlege the mistakes they make in their parenting,insist that they are alays right and that that only mistake existing on planet earth is me since I'm the un-cooperative, shut- off , arrogant brat of a child that they are too self- sacrifical and perfect to deal with. They don't respect me, all they do is disapprove and disgaree,and tell me I'M wrong. But again, it's my fault for following the worng things, watching too much laptop and having very little self- esteem. They are completly blameless , alright? The reason I began this post mentioning I'm in too much pain is becuase in that house, I genuinely feel like I can't breathe. I genuinely feel pained and conflicted every minute I spend there. The worst part is , I feel guilty for feeling those things. I feel like I really am the bitch they make me out to be. And that's not even , the worst part.I'm going to end this post here, becuase I feel like I've ranted enough and wrote things off frustration. I will write again when I feel more at peace, since I've not captured my feeling properly.