• ironicalwaffle 6w

    One of these days

    One of these days,
    You're going to read about me in papers
    Or as an article on some media platforms.

    "The quiet timid girl"

    "She didn't seem like it"

    One of these days,
    Those pieces of "advices" you keep drilling
    Is going to get to me.

    "Why would she do something like that?"
    "I didn't know she was so unhappy"

    Didn't know?
    How could you NOT know?

    You're my mother.
    I told you about how I needed help.
    How my own mind had turned against me.

    Those normal days
    I struggle to stay alive.

    I struggled and I cried
    And begged and raged

    To be understood
    To be loved
    To be helped.

    "We're your parents"

    As if that gave you the right
    To question my self worth
    To question my value
    Resentful of me for failing you.

    Always going on and on
    About my failures and my mistake
    As if I get no second chances.

    "Don't speak about death so lightly over something so little,
    So pathetic that you're this weak"

    I'm not weak,
    I'm struggling.

    Struggling to maintain my sense of self
    Struggling to cope with whatever is eating me
    From the inside out.

    I can't breathe
    I can't be normal
    But I'm trying my best not to let it consume me.

    And this thing that you do
    Where you sit me down and judge my decisions and my redemptions
    Based on my failures,
    Where you're allowed to say it however you want
    Because you're the "parents"
    Because you "care"

    This thing you call "advice"
    But its just you recounting my failures
    And how I've failed to live
    The way you want me to.

    One of these days,
    I won't be able to bear it anymore.

    One of these days
    All these "advices" are going to get to me.

    Maybe one of these days,
    I'll get a peaceful sleep.