i am sorry, that when i was born, i got most of my father’s genes. i look like him, i act like him, i even experience my emotions the same way he does.
i am sorry that even though you hate him, you have to deal with me because legally, i am your daughter. you kinda got attached.
i am sorry that it is hard to control sometimes. i try to keep my emotions in check but i am a hothead. my anger gets the best of me. i hold grudges. i am trying my hardest. i really am.
i am sorry that i got the worst job in your mind. i am sorry that my work, who give me the hours i ask for, respect me, despite my position at the bottom of the hierarchy. i am sorry that it is very demanding of my time, and has no clear end time. i decide it, but i am sorry i am too guilty to leave any of my coworkers with a lot of work to do when i leave.
i am sorry i was a pain in the ass teenager. i was a little messed up. i am sorry that you blamed yourself for me wanting to harm myself. i am sorry that you feel responsible for me.
i am sorry you had to take me to therapy for a year for it.
i am sorry that i didn’t leave when you kicked me out the house. twice.
i am sorry that i didn’t just finish the job back then. you would have been much happier without me here. i could have lived under the bridge you suggested.
i am sorry that i took the car you gave me. if didn’t take it, or if i couldn’t drive, you wouldn’t have to worry about me hitting anything, or you wouldn’t have to worry about paying anything for it.
i am sorry that i have done so many things, that you believe i don’t respect you anymore. things such as told you that i don’t want to shop with you anymore because all you do is yell at me for my clothing choices.
i am sorry all i wear is sweaters and jeans. i am sorry that is what i feel most comfortable in.
i am sorry i was too chubby for your liking. i am sorry this made shopping for me so difficult. i am sorry i forced you to have to spend a long time to find jeans that we could afford to fit me.
i am sorry i am not my sister. i am sorry that i can not do as well in school as her.
i am sorry i take up space. i know it’s hard to have to deal with me in the house, just being there.
i am sorry i like to go to hockey games. i know that takes away from time i could be helping you out.
i am sorry that i go out. i know you can’t sleep unless i am home. i am sorry that my job keeps me out till 12.
i am sorry i keep fucking up. i am trying so hard.
i am sorry that i did so many things that made you feel like i no longer respect you. things such as standing up for when you keep yelling at and insulting me for no reason.
i am sorry i broke your heart. i guess that’s why you broke mine.
guess who is having a feel so we are going on a rant.
i’m sorry
i have never dated before. i never experienced heartbreak or emotional hurt like that before.
but by your parents, it’s a whole other thing. for my mother to turn around and say those words to me, hurt me so deeply. it hurt so badly the way she said it. i can still feel it deep in my chest and i can’t brush it off. say she had said it because she was angry. but she wasn’t. it was an off hand comment she had made because she knew i was going to work. passing thought kind of thing.
she thought so lowly. she looked down on her daughter so much, with so much disappointment and distrust that she thought that i no longer respected her.
you raised me, you taught me everything about my manors. i am still working on a lot of things. i am trying my hardest. believe me. i wouldn’t want anyone to feel the way i feel right now. you raised me to be respectful, to care, to help others when they need it.
you are the reason i am so good at my job, you are the reason i am wear i am, why i am in such good terms with my bosses. i am able to live how i want to live with my shitty part time job because of the way you raised me.
but the fact that you had to make a comment, that comment, when i have never, ever, done something like that since i was able to do it, hurt. it hurt so much.
the worst thing i have done was yell at you in the middle of the market, because you left us, in the middle of a busy street, scared, because we were alone in a country where we didn’t even speak the language. and i had appologized about that. it was a missunderstanding between you, me and my brother.
someone you will never antagonize because he’s your baby.
which is whatever. i made peace with that a while ago. you are never going to change, so i stopped caring about that.
you claim to worry yourself sick when i walk out the door and don’t tell you where i am going, because i am upset, because i am mad at you. you make my sister call me, demanding to know where i am.
but it’s all selfish. you don’t care about my well being. it’s because you would be too guilty if something were to happen to me. you want me back home for you, so you don’t feel guilty. so you don’t lose the third adult in the house to help you out. so you don’t lose your chauffeur, your extra hand when you can’t do everything yourself. you would lose the person to blame for your issues, to insult, and tell them how their personality sucks because all they can do is act like their father.
you would lose the person who takes over for you when your not home.
you are selfish. you only care about yourself and think everything you do is better than anyone else.
i love you. i do. from the bottom of my heart. but you no longer care about me. i don’t need you to sustain myself like a child anymore. so you stopped caring completely.
so you resort to insulting me, demanding me to do things your way, even if it technically has nothing to do with you. you will make it about you, so you still have a say.
i am still growing. i am still learning. i am only in my 20s for godsakes. i don’t rely on you for everything. you made sure of that. you yell at me when i do.
you check out when it comes to me. you’ll take care of everyone else and leave me to do everything myself.
which is fine. if you didn’t make it so hard.
do my own laundy. but i am going to leave all my clothing all over the place and i am going to yell at you if you ask me what to do with it, because either leave it there, stop rushing me, or seriously, you don’t know what to do with it?
or take food
wait not that food, didn’t you know i was saving that for lunch? don’t you know that’s for your dad? don’t you know i was counting on eating that for dinner tomorrow?
i made you breakfast! be grateful!
thank you. but i have told you for the last year and a half. it hurts too much to eat that stuff right after i tighten my braces.but i guess i have to eat it now, i don’t have a choice.
i can only eat one type of snack.
okay.
why isn’t any of my snack here?
oh your dad ate all of them.
but now i have nothing to eat.
why did you buy chocolate? you know we have some at home! I buy for you all the time.
i am not home most of the week. most of the food in the house i never see.
now school had started i am either studying, working, or at school. i can’t deal with this anymore.
as someone who works in the paint department of a hardware store i just wanna say that you are absolutely allowed (and ENCOURAGED!) to grab as many cards off the rack as you want so long as you don’t take more than one or two of each colour (they are free for customers but the store only gets so many at a time so please don’t just walk off with our ENTIRE supply of SW 7587 Antique Red cards)
so i didn’t realize kuzco is literally only 17 in the emperor’s new groove and the pacha-kuzco dynamic becomes like 8x funnier bc pacha has accidentally adopted a teenager
i am just so broken hearted that she doesn't even care to ask why i snapped. she knows i am still angry with her. she legit just no longer cares. i knew it would happen, just not while i still lived with her.
a cumulation of all these things cause me to break and snap at her last week. i saw this dress on the rack and i fell in love. since i lost weight, a lot of my dresses don't fit right anymore, or they were all black. so i saw this pretty, white-with-flowers-dress and i was like "yes please, please look good on me"
so i grabbed it and tried it on and i loved it. it fell so nicely (since i since figured out bras and what type of underwear goes with what) and it was just the perfect summer dress.
my mom had to see how i looked, so my sister went to find her.
of course she's half way across the store, looking for sweaters for my brother.
as soon as she took too long i knew and i was mad.
then she came in and said "yeah, it looks nice" and i nodded bc yes, i am finally fitting into the clothing i love.
and i twirlled around and said "yes, the perfect dress just to wear when we have to go out"
and she goes "ohh okay!!" and thows her hands up, mimicking what i had done.
which probably wasn't meant as mean, but i had had enough. she didn't even care what i was doing, she was looking for my brother's stuff. but she had demanded to see what i was wearing and that was the comment she had to make. i was so mad. all this and she had to make that comment. i couldn't take it anymore. so i snapped and thew the dress back on the rack. she kept asking what was wrong, if she couldn't make comments about anything, and i couldn't even tell her how frustrated i was. years of having trouble with clothing, and that's what comment she makes.
three years of arguing with her that just because my brother is a boy, he shouldn't be treated any differently.
three years of me trying to figure out what the hell she wants from me.
and i can't take it any more.
so i will not apologize. i will not be the bigger person this time. i always have to be the bigger person, to my mother, who apparently does nothing wrong, whom we blame for everything, wrongly.
the one who will dote and everyone but me, but will demand to control my life.
the worst part, is that i was not a skinny kid. i wasn't heavily overweight or anything, looking back at it, but i was about 20 pounds heavier, and 3 inches shorter. plus i had gained a bunch of weight over one summer, so it showed a lot.
my mom would not let me forget it. i couldn't buy jeans in stores where everyone shopped bc back then, curves weren't in. everything was super skinny and nonstreachy. so, i had to go to the worker's warehouse where my dad bought his uniforms for jeans.
it doesn't soundss bad, but i was 12. i was embarrassed. it felt like i couldn't fit into clothing that kids my age normally wore.
and then i had a bit of a stomach to top it all off, so i couldn't wear a lot of the styles of tops. my mom would not let me forget it. she would poke and pull at things, telling it didn't look good because "my belly" or "my arms" were too big.
so naturally stopping for clothing was something i hated, and still do. which she knows. and she still demands to see what i wear, so she can tell me what she thinks of it. i don't want her to pull apart the top i fell in love with because i don't have the body type. if i like it, i like it.
it's been almost 10 years and she still doesn't get it.
(this is a long rant, and i can't create a read more on mobile. sorry!!!)
and then, i love wearing sweaters. they are the best things to throw on when i have to go to work, bc i wear them to do the work with recycling i have to outside in winter.
they are perfect to pull on when i am going to a hockey game at 1 pm and i woke up at 11.
they are great when i am heading to my lecture and i have no idea how the temp inside is gonna be.
my mom HATES IT. she complains whenever i wear them and she will not stop. she will contiune to tell me how that's trashy, and i can't wear anything else. like all that matters that i impress the half wake students in my 10am tutorial
the same when i wear sweat pants. she can't stand it.
(to be fair, i have 14 different crewnecks / hoodies. i might have a problem, but i pretty much bought them all myself. the only i did not buy myself is my grad one, because i did not work back then)
which i wouldn't care about.
if she didn't run out and by sweatpants and sweaters for my brother as soon as she goes out.
i want to shop for myself and she's on the otherside of the store, looking for stuff for him.
which, totally fine, whatever. he grows like a fucking WEED. dude needs clothing every few months.
but if you are gonna go out and look for the exact thing you hate me wearing, stop fucking tell me to stop wearing them?
i would be okay if it was like "can you not wear that, we are going to a dinner"
but i am going to school! wear i am for legit four hours! NO NEED TO DRESS UP UNLESS I KNOW I AM GOING TO MEET SOMEONE.
everyone wears them, it legit doesn't matter. she barely buys clothing for me anymore and she still demands that i meet her specifications.
do you ever feel EXTRA touch starved like you’re just laying around and suddenly it’s just If I Do Not Experience Affection Right Now I Will Die And That Is A Promise
my mom has different standards for all of us, which is like, completely fine. i am four/six years older than my siblings. totally understandable. i am the oldest by a lot and i have a lot of responsibilities.
what's not okay is when my mom goes "you have to pick up your own clothing / garbage / pack up your own laundry bc my brother might SEE a bra.
my sister and i are forced to pack up his underwear and fucking SPORTS JOCK but a bra is not okay.
i legit called her out for it and she said "it makes me uncomfortable"
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