Confessions of an Imperfect Daughter

5 - ANNIHILATION

ANNIHILATION

The end but also a beginning, I lay in my deathbed, thinking

Many things have a boiling point. Mine is the look on your face when you're angry and unwilling to express it. I call to see that face and I try to maintain the pretense of not knowing so that I can cut the call at the end and go back to my actual life, but it never works that way. That's because that face, the never-ending flow of advisory words that flow from mom and sometimes you, dad, is my boiling point. After a while though, you don't get there anymore. It's like I've burst out too many times that I just don't have it in me to do it again. It's the point where you just can't take it anymore, but also one where you're so done with it that you decide to not care and remain neutral. It's the saturation point. Once this is achieved all those words turn nonsensical and the expression is just mirrored on my own, inside my mind, the perpetual anger, the guilt and hurt fading away or rather getting so used to living in myself that I don't even realize it's there anymore.

The saturation point, though it sounds like a dangerous thing is actually the best thing that can happen to you. Actually, I wouldn't know because I've never been there, at least, not long enough, but I would like to. To numb down my feelings seems to be my best option because that's what you would have me do rather than express them to you. You always say, "You feel angry that you were deprived of going out with your friends that often? Well, it's all for your good. We're only doing this to you because we want you to be safe and sound." In this way you want to escape the boiling point. In the end, it's not about me but you. You don't want to feel any of the negative emotions that come with worry so you manipulate me into choosing the path that shelters me from the sun, dooming me to forever seek solace in darkness.

Come to think of it, the penchant for long lectures and advising seems to be something that I inherited from the both of you. Each time, I think I'm done berating you for the decision you made for me, you make another thousand, so that when left to my own devices I didn't know how to take the reins of my life back. I kept trying to find someone else to drive so that I wouldn't have to take responsibility in case of an accident. But, most of them were already driving their own vehicles on the road so I hitchhiked, shifting from the backseat of one to another, knowing that I would have to get off at one point.

When I got to college, I never imagined that I would ever drive so fast, through unexplored roads, occasionally stopping to catch a breath. But for the first time, I had the license to go about on my own, the freedom to make mistakes (although I made sure to never tell you about them). I'd rather make my own mistakes than learn from yours, as you have made me do all this while. I don't want to borrow your experiences to shape my own because I'd always question the outcomes had I given it a chance instead of going by your words. You told me to not trust anyone because family would be the only entity that would care for me and nothing can change that. But, I don't want that extensive care. My friends care about me enough and even if I'm just fooling myself believing in that, I'll learn eventually when they leave me. It is a heartbreak you want to save me from but if I don't understand pain by myself, I don't know if I will recognize it for what it truly is.

You told me to stay away from alcohol and drugs because they were addictive. From the moment that statement was made I developed an irrational fear of addiction coupled with self-doubt. Was I really weak enough to succumb to something like that? I'd seen stronger people give in to addiction and watched actors portray such roles about how they destroyed themselves and the others around them over a drop of alcohol or a puff of marijuana. Suffice it to say that you generalizing me as one of the people who could potentially get addicted took a toll on my self-esteem. If adverse effects were a possibility I wanted to know what I would do in the face of it; not what I have seen others do, or what you said they did. After all, I needed to know myself so I could introduce her to you.