Have you ever lied to your parents?
Of course you have! If you say no, you’re lying. Because in one point or another in life, lying becomes an instrument—something more of defense mechanism to not let them in the very sanctuary where your mind wonders free and happily.
I hate it when my parents come to our school for a program or a meeting. I feel as if a private space of mine is invaded with each step they take, going further beyond..rapturing the very pillars that hold me sane.
Dear reader, I have not established a very good relationship with my parents. No, I am not an orphan. Nor am I a bastard daughter. Ideally, my family could be one so perfect like those that sit in front of a fire place on a chilly winter evening all wearing matching sweaters with extravagant smiles, ready for a holiday picture. My family could never be like that. I can never go out in public with my parents without feeling constraint.
In my throat I feel their hands wrapped around it. I cannot speak of words to express what I truly feel. In my wrist dangles such weight..a burden of being tied to an endless chain, not being able to move and glide like the wind. In me is a voice speaking into my head over and over and over again..telling me to lie and cover my mistakes. Be the good girl they expect you to be.
But I’m not a good girl. No one is. We all had to go through mistakes that mended us into better people. I am not going to sugarcoat anymore because there is no other frank way to say it. We are all scarred by life period. And these scars in one way or another has created so much damage that it either ameliorated us or changes us completely.
I just can’t bear knowing that I will never be that damsel of pure sweetness and light that my parents expect me to be.
And so dear parents, I lie to you simply because I fear you. I fear all the expectations and frustrations. I am sorry but I will never be the girl who will always politely say sorry for all her false doings..the girl who will speak only if spoken to..the girl who will stand for nothing at all. I am sorry, but I am a rebel. I want to be free from all the encumbrance of your judgmental eyes and disapproving nods and sensitive ears.
Forgive me for I will never stop fearing you. I will always walk in doubt beside you for everything will always be filled with expectations and criticisms. That is why on the days when the sun seem to never set, I come home so late just to avoid you..just to have an excuse that I am tired..just so I can get on with my life without having to awaken the burning desire within me to cry from all the dreams of mine that you have shaken.
But trust me, I am grateful for all that you provide…It’s just that in me is a shy spark of fire that fears the winter so much… Like me, it hides and vanishes. It lies because it fears.