It sucks that every time I do something right in the household, it’s already expected and never acknowledged. When I don’t do something, it means I’m a bad child. If I say that I slept all day because I finally have a free day to sleep in, it’s translated that I don’t care about my life and that I need to do something. When I go out and do something with my life, I am told I need to stay home because I go out too much. I’m constantly compared to my best friend, my cousins, and my parents’ co-workers’ children. I am always told these things by my parents.
I am not in a gang. I do not indulge in drugs. I have a high GPA. I got into one of hardest majors in my school. I’m still in school. I have a nice job. I have amazing friends. I am always willing to drop friends for family outings and events. I do not speak false about my parents behind their back.
It is NEVER enough for them. I will ALWAYS be inadequate.
They have no idea what their words and expectations do to me.
I feel displaced. Born in the wrong time, captured in the wrong moments, socializing with the wrong people. I can’t help but feel like the timing in every thing that I do flows on the wrong tempo; I’m always a beat too soon or early.
I have the feeling that I’m destined for so much more but I don’t know how to break through the ceiling that keeps me housed in my stagnant state. I’m praying everyday God will give me my answers; my strength.
- Reblogged from the past in honor of Father's Day.
- *Dad walks in to show off his graduation program from high school*
- Me: Wow, I still can't believe you were salutatorian!
- Dad: That's from all my hard work, son.
- Me: And you had a lot of classmates too...
- Dad: Yeah, some of them are probably dead, successful, or maybe still stuck in the Philippines. They're all over the place, maybe. Who knows.
- Me: ...Do you feel that you're successful?
- *Dad collects all of the papers and puts it back into an envelope*
- Dad: I have a loving wife and a good boy son; a perfect family. That, to me, is success.