So Christmas has finally arrived!
And all this morning, I've been making cookies. 3 different kinds, too. So, I'm very tired right now and I want to sleep, but I'm also hungry. Stupid. But I can't wait for dinner. I've already opened my presents which consisted of shoes, a belt (I needed one so badly. My pants kept on falling down), and some girl neccesities.
And I've also been writing, so here's a litle preview of my writing style. Take note that this is NOT based on my life or anyone elses. Completely made from my imagination.
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“YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE BORN!”
These words were repeated in our house, daily. I used to think nothing of it, for it always seemed like they would use it against me all the time. I was simply, not bothered by it. I was always thinking they were lying to me and that my parents knew they were going to have me, that they wanted to have me. But by the way they were treating me, as if I’m some sort of rat living within their corridors, I started to believe that maybe, just maybe , I was an accident. That maybe my mother had forgotten to take her birth control pill the month that I was made
I was right.
The secret was revealed. I wasn’t supposed to be born. I was just an accident. I felt disgusted by this, by the fact that I wasn’t made purposely but because the fact that a condom had failed or the birth control wasn’t working. It haunted me day and night, nothing felt right anymore. Nothing felt real anymore. I was living a lie and day by day I, myself, didn’t want to live anymore. I was slowly starting to believe that it would have been better off not even being made.
I felt betrayed and rejected by my parents. By this point, they have no right to be called my parents. They were equivalent to a pair of strangers walking down a street, in my mind.
I also recall when Eunjoo was angrily talking to me about how if I wasn’t born, she could have had more things in her life, more valuable things other than a sister. She blamed it all on me for having to pay more insurance and to pay more for bills. If we didn’t have to pay all those extra bills, they could have gotten a better house, better household items, better lives. It wasn’t really my fault though, right? I didn’t fondle with fate, pleading and begging to it down on my knees just so I could be born.
But then, why not ask the obvious? Why didn’t they just put me up for adoption? Abortion?
If they were to do so, their reputation would have gone down the toilet. Koreans were very prideful, indeed. They fooled everyone into thinking that they were a happy family, that we all had happy lives. Could the people not see behind my forced smile? The sadness that glistened in my eyes? The hopelessness that controlled every movement in my body?
I wanted to scream.
I wanted someone to hear my voice and the anger in my voice that rose above all others, the thoughts that go through my mind when confronting my siblings. I would always give a stoic face to my siblings whenever we fought, giving no hint of emotion and not saying a word. But my mind was going out of control, I was thinking horrible thoughts, thinking of different ways I could have confronted this situation. But I was weak.
I was always weak.
I couldn’t bring myself to say what was in my mind. I was being held captive in my own mind; I was a slave to myself. I was always scared of my siblings and their doings, so I commanded my body to stay low and do as little as possible. I had to walk away from my obstacles and not be able to overcome them and I had to wait for what fate would throw in front of me, because, quite frankly, that was all I could do.
I would stay hidden in the depths of my room, no sound could be heard. I would always find myself thinking over the same thoughts day after day. Could I escape from this evil world? Was there a loophole in life that I just simply missed? What were my consequences? But these wandering questions stayed unanswered for they were questions that could never be answered.
Years and years had passed and yet, I was still confined in this place. I had no plans, I had no escape, and I had no answer. If I wanted to live again, I would have to leave the place from where it all started.
And I did.
I ran away.
I ran away, hoping to find a place where everything seemed right, where I could actually smile again, with hope. And yes I did. I found the place where I could start anew, where my past didn’t matter to anyone, and where no one knew of my horrible past. I have a big skeleton in my closet and I’m hoping that I would never have to open that closet again and bring out the past that still haunts me to this day. The thing that corrupted my mind and world.
Day by day, I was starting to feel stronger and confident in this new living environment. I was actually, happy. I had a life, friends, and love. That was all I needed, right? I couldn’t possibly ask for more. But there was one more thing I needed.
I needed strength.
And by this point, I think I’ve pursued it.
“Hey, hey! I think she’s coming back to us!”
Because I need it to live my life, again.
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