I’m falling. Somewhere deep, into my own self. Off a cliff, into an endless river.
I cry. Then I smile. I laugh, then I don’t. I talk, then I shut up. I look, and then I don’t.
She affects me more then I would ever want her to. She makes my life more difficult then it needs to be. I don’t understand. One day, she’s the happiest she could be with me. The other, like majority days, it seems that I only disappoint her more and more every second. She acknowledges it as well. She tells me that I don’t live up to her expectations in hidden words every day. It’s like she really wishes for me to be different than who I became to be. She’s the same towards my father.
Sometimes I wonder how my life would be without her. But I can’t think that. It’s supposed to be forbidden. I wish I didn’t though. But the curiosity eats me alive when the tears flowing out of my eyes are because of her. I have to stop myself from wondering more at times, I still have humanity.
I love her. I do love her. There’s doubt, but eventually I learned that this love is inevitable. However, sometimes the consequences of loving her lead to some of the worst things I have experienced in my life.
So I’m scared. There are times I want to show her I’m happy. Happy because of something that happened in college or with my friends or my successes. But I can’t. I don’t. Because when I do, it’s like she tries to put me down; ruin my happiness. In her shoes, I feel that if she sees me happy it means that I did something wrong or went behind her back. That I’m too evil or wise to be happy for some other reason. The times I have shown her my true and RAW happiness, it’s led to negativity and lectures which eventually are the causes for the erosion of my happiness.
It’s a circle. Neverending. Repetitive. I try to hide my feelings but sometimes I can’t. I overflow and it comes out. Both negative and positive. It’s the hope in me that fails to fail.
I do love her, but at times I may hate that reality. I want to be like those people who can just cut out negative things in their life in an instance. I cannot. I care too much. I want to be happy but it seems that I don’t. I should be able to be myself in front of her. But I’m not. And I admit that some of it has to do with hiding my own personality from her deliberately, however, most of has to do with her.
I walk on the eggshells that she has lied down before me 24/7. They’re everywhere.
People often ask me what I’m scared of most in life. I say loneliness.
I lie. It’s my mother.