Day 5 : A Letter to My Parents

Well, another hard question here i have to describe. Uh well. I’m gonna write in english today, because oh boy it’s hard for me. Mixed feeling I guess. Okay here we go

I never really talk about my parents. Maybe I don’t know how to put it into words. Understanding. All my whole childhood even until now, I’m still trying to understand what’s beneath those tired faces of them. Well, they are just human after all. I’m not expecting them to be perfect and make no single mistake. But they are one of the reason I don’t want to be parents well for now.

Dad, you’re not my first love

Some people say that Dad is their first love. I can’t relate at all. My dad is the hardest person I’ve ever met. Let’s say, he had his own problem and well I don’t know principle, I guess. And it’s not easy to understand at all as a kid on that time. All the high expectation, all the hard thing to even write in here or even speak it to anyone else. Even as an adult, I still don’t understand.

I’m an outspoken person since I was a kid. When they give me hard time, I will give them hard time too. I’m the type of person ‘when I was slapped I’m not giving it my other cheek, i will definitely slap them too’. Square and fair. That is that kind of relationship I had with my dad.

“Why you did it to me when I was kid? I did nothing wrong” I said to my dad one time

“You are my kid. God believe in me to raise you, so it’s my duty to make you a perfect tough human being” he said to me

Religion have been the one and only escape plan and answer both my dad and mom ever give me for every question I ask. Does it make me religious person? hell no. It makes me hate it, sometimes way too much. Well, he’s not having it easy as well in life. His life and pain in life is that kind of movie plot, well except he’s no Reza Rahardian. Living against the odds, I guess. Well, maybe it justified what he did. Or maybe I just got lucky born in a very Asian family. Spoiler alert, it’s a fucking mess.

Dad, you are not my first love, never have been. I respect you as a family man that provide so much despite we’re not having it easy. I saw you when you cried in the corner of the room because my brother got surgery. I hate what you did to me, but the hard thing to forget is how you treat my brother. Despite, he is being super asshole but he is the only one I had.

I hate every pain you give to me and expect me to have fucked life, just because you did. But despite everything, even you did it wrong, well it make me a strong person. I never shed a tear for myself, I can stand up for myself if I’m being treated wrong. I learn how to speak and even how to look smart from you. And after all I’ve been through, even if you’ve never said it, I forgive you and I respect you.

Mom, I’m not your answer sheet

Others say that their mom is the toughest person they ever met. Perhaps that true. But for me, making one of dedication post about her like my friend always do is too hard, and probably never gonna happen. Well, she is a good person indeed, probably one of the nicest person I’ve ever met. But beneath her smile to every single person she meet, she is a difficult person with those unresolved issues that expect me as her kid to deal it up for her.

“what is the point of having a kid anyway? just another expectation of society” one time I said to her

And she said “all the good things will happen, once you’re getting married and having your kid. All the blessing of the world and happiness once you lost will be soon to be found”

That sum it up, how our conversation (always) going. I don’t feel happy at all. I mean, you should make your own happiness rather than expect a single soul that you brought to give you those happiness. Being a kid probably the hardest thing I ever do. Leaving my hometown definitely the best thing I ever do with my life. And I ain’t coming back to those shithole ever again.

Her happiness is having her kids around mentally and physically. Despite her sweet talking, she never really does it for me. I always hate it when others say how understanding she is. But never once, she understand or having those deep talks to me without a fight. Her value of life and mine is way too different. We are sun and moon, a total opposite of each other, that’s why even how I breath could be a long debate. The way she assume, I have every answer for every internal issues she is having. While, I should be the one who ask a question. Maybe, she love and want me so much that make her assume everything about me. And even now, I can’t quite understand.

Mom, I can’t be your answer or even happiness I never want it, I never will. I can’t be the answer of your unresolved issues. I can’t be your answer of finding your own happiness. Damn, it’s hard to even say the word happiness for me. Mom, I’m not yours to begin with. You can’t claim me and sometimes hang it up with a rope. I belong to myself, mom. Please let me be. Stop being guilty about how messed up I am. It’s just the way I am.

Mom, I see you put tough face when you see me cry as a kid. I can’t always be happy all the time. Let me own my life, mistakes, or even happiness. It’s hurt so much when you were being bystander every single day and incident, I mean you can stand up for us. But even so, I learn how to stand up and speak for what I think is right. Mom, I cry a lot but none of it is your mistakes, it’s mine. I could see what you’re doing to me in your passive aggressive way even until now. But I can’t be that person anymore, I never be anyway.

Mom, thank you for bringing me to this world and teach me how to understand people, like you always do. Mom, don’t seek for forgiveness, I don’t need that, really. It takes time to heal, but you know I do love you.

And please Mom (and Dad), let me be free.

An amateur storyteller and featured enthusiast

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