Sometimes when you’re overwhelmed by everything that is happening around you and to you, when it seems so hard to be positive, you wallow in self pity. You start making your own evaluation, and find things are always unfair the way they have to happen only to you.
I cry until no more tears left to be cried. The things I go through, I cannot share with another soul. Not now. Sometimes, I tell others only the tip of my iceberg of drama. People can only say be strong, be patient, they understand how I feel. But they don’t. They can only feel it when they wear my shoes. They are not here, they do not go through this everyday, all these years. I don’t have the luxury to only be here when I want to and play the role only on weekends and over the phone.
All these, I figure, can help build my character. But they also made me bitter. And angry. So I retaliate. The responsibilities. My freedom I’m deprived of. The silence. The extra curricular activities. The comments.
You read your books and want to be like Jane Eyre, Anne Elliot or Elizabeth Bennet. These strong women you admire because they face whatever life throws at them with poise and patience. Sometimes I think, if I were to be the main character of a story, I would hate her because she is so frail, and scream to the screen/ pages Snap out of it already!
Now I know better.