A story of me who loved them more than myself

 

“I want to be a perfect daughter to my parents.” that’s what I always tell myself whenever laziness calls for my name especially in waking up early in the morning. It’s an inspiration and reminder to me!

Ever since I started my grade school life and had to wake up at 6:00 o’clock in the morning it has always been a huge struggle of me versus my eyes that refuse to open in the morning for school. As a student, there are a lot of things that are really so hard for me that is normal to other kids at school.

My dad expected me to be really good in every way since my elder sister is so perfect since birth that he doesn’t need to worry about her. Waking up at six was normal to her, taking a bath with cold water was nothing to her and most of all, studying and getting the highest grades in the class were just at the tip of her pinkies. Everything she does is just natural to her, she doesn’t have to exert so much effort to get high grades, she doesn’t need alarm clocks, and she doesn’t have to wait for the water to boil to bath in the mornings. She is effortlessly flawless and that sucks because everyone expects me to be like her and me trying to be her is just like a mouse trying to be an elephant. It’s so impossible!

I feel that my dad perfectly knows how far she is compared to me that’s maybe why he helps me with my studies and reminds me every afternoon with my homework and sometimes, he pays for someone to tutor me.

To make it short, I’m the jealous one and the difference between me and my sister is that she is indefectible, but doesn’t mean I am bad; I am just not good enough—but didn’t stop me from trying though.

My sister and I lived a conservative and disciplined life, one mistake and we get the cake we deserve. It felt like we were imprisoned, we didn’t have friends, we had to control our movements especially the way we laugh, we haven’t gone to parties or programs even school events because we have to be home at 8; we never knew our neighbour’s kids’ names and our arterial: school and home. We have to be formal in every way.

It was on Monday when I had this group project that I had to print so I had to go to a computer station to print it out; my dad was out of town so I didn’t bother asking permission. It’s unconvincing but it was my first time to go out with a friend without my dad.

I was so happy, ignorant and I felt like a bird being freed. It’s not like I hate dad, but I wondered, why do I feel this free? Seeing lots of people in the market, it was the day that I appreciated the clear blue sky above me instead of the white ceiling at home and there were street vendors who sold tempura and other street foods which captured my eyes and money.

I got home safely that day without the printout, when I entered the gate he was already there; he looked like a lion eyeing his prey. I know! I just remembered what I did, and looks like I know what will happen.

I ate the piece of cake I deserved, yes I got my prize for what I did and if I speak more, I’d have to eat more.

My sister asked me what went into my head for not asking permission, she doesn’t have to add insult to injury, talking to me just makes me cry even more. Easy for her to say because it was easy for her to follow dad’s rules.

Then she told me: “Life isn’t easy.. It’s a choice. To be happy or to make others happy but there are times that we had to choose only one”.

That then, I concluded. Right now, she’s choosing to make others happy.

It has been our life, and I feel pity for my sister who already graduated with honors and awards and now working but still not allowed having a boyfriend.

I realized that in this life, choosing your happiness takes a lot of courage.

Until finally, the day came when she started to choose for herself, she had her first boyfriend who courted her way back from high school. I was proud of her! They had this high school- like relationship where they had to hide from our parents and only communicating through texts. She never regrets any choice that she made.

That’s when I started loving her even more, she became my dream. I wanted to be like her, she made it. She finally was able to gather courage and choose her happiness. I thought it was the start of her happy ever after but it didn’t last, not because she stopped choosing for herself but because she has to give back his life to the Creator. I wish she had a little more time.

I can’t believe how someone so perfect almost in everything, be gone so early in that very sudden moment.

It was depressing that my Dad can’t even bear to look at me too. He left home and somewhere that will help him forget the melancholy.

It’s stupid and I don’t know how to say it but the day I lost my sister, was the day I gained my freedom; it was the day where I had to force myself for strength, the day I realized that life is short; the day I had the courage to think of my happiness..

Life is short; Life is not easy so if you have the chance to be happy then grab it before it gets taken away.

After that big loss, my happiness seems to matter to me a huge deal.

I felt independent after the big loss, something inside me is telling me I have to be strong enough to stand on my own, I don’t want anyone to worry about me so I had to look strong to my family. Everyone in the family is grieving so I had to show an image that tells them “Don’t worry about me. I am okay, I am okay”…  I didn’t want them to see how helpless I am, I didn’t want them to see how I miserable I am because I know it’ll break their hearts even more. That’s why it was so hard to be around them that I didn’t want to go home.

I was selfish and egotistical. I started to have lunch outside with my friends without asking permission, I begin to do the things that were prohibited; I even talked back to the teachers and what’s unexpected is that I fell in love.

I felt so free, I felt like a kite that has lost its tie. I never knew there was another world like this; there were happenings and feelings that I never expected that exist and there were taps and hugs that I never thought would heal so much..

I found friends in a volunteer group that I never thought would mean so much; I found people where I can freely cry my heart out without worries. They are like another family whom I can show how I truly feel, no faking of smiles and no holding of tears.

To these big guys, I may just be a friend but to me, they are like walls where I can lean on.

And to the guy I think I fell in love with, no words could express my gratefulness for saving me two times. He saw how miserable and hopeless I was but he still chose to stay and reminded me that death will not end my suffering.

I found a completely whole new world, a world that I was never into if I didn’t lose her…

Life doesn’t last forever and that’s what makes it valuable. You have to choose what really makes you happy.

My sister and I are thankful to our parents of how we grew up, she was successful and happy. She says their happiness is also her happiness!

Indeed, their happiness should be my happiness too.

Years after, I got back to my senses…

I realized what makes me happy but…. what if my happiness will make them unhappy, will I still choose my happiness?

I weighed in so many things & decided which is which!

I dug deeper into my heart and found answers. I can’t take it when my loved ones get hurt because of me, I can’t imagine a life with them disappointed at me, I can’t take the thought that I will make them worry.

I love them so much that I can manage to forget about my happiness.

I can live in a cage & try to live with it as long as it will make them happy.

Being a perfect daughter isn’t easy, but she made it because of her love.

Maybe I can’t be a perfect daughter, but I’ll try to be at least a good one.

And for the rest of my life, I will continue living the life that they want me to.

… and so, this is a story of me, who loved them more than myself.

 

 

PS.

Found this piece from my files. This was written 2 years ago..

This whole piece could either be true or not true.

 

1 thought on “A story of me who loved them more than myself

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