October 17th
Laney Morrison
I don't know why I care so much. My parents do enough of that for me. "Tuck in your shirt better, brush your hair again, put on some makeup, smile!" They've drilled their voices so deep in my head that often I forget their voices aren't mine.
Everyday is a cycle of struggle to perfection in everything I do. Be it studying, art, taking care of my siblings, writing, staying active, socializing, every single thing has to be done a certain way and well. That's why I decided today I'd do something imperfect, and that was to start this journal of me complaining about the life I'm apparently "ungrateful" for.
You know, it wasn't always this hard to be me. At one point, in the far past, I was just a little girl who liked puppies and rainbows with parents who just wanted me to be happy. Then my little sister was born, and my other little sister, and then my baby brother. Suddenly being a little girl was over, and now I had to be a big sister, though, in my eyes, it seemed more like being a third parent.
I wake up at 5:30 AM every morning to prepare lunches and set out clothes, then to pick a modest but attractive outfit to please my mom and school, do makeup to hide my eyebags and acne scars, and put my hair half-up for convenience and style.
To be honest, I want to chop off all my hair and dress in baggy clothes, but even I think that's as crazy as wanting to murder someone. In a way, that would be murdering someone. The someone my parents want me to be.
YOU ARE READING
To Nowhere
Teen FictionThey were your normal teen friend group, laughing about their childish dreams and pretending their home lives weren't shitty. When North Korean defectors, Iseul and Minjun, moved to their neighborhood in Santee, California, it leads them to discover...
