Guilt #MyLoveandProfanity

Love

I felt guilty.

As I watched my mom sleep peacefully. She was tired from work. Even when she tried to hide it, she was exhausted. She wanted to bring money home. Money for my education.

I never noticed how small she really was until now. I never really took notice of the bags under her eyes. I never noticed how old she had become.

And someday I'll be just like her, worried about my future children's future. But for now, I would have to think about my own path.

I am such an ungrateful child and I know the decision I'm about to make will break her heart.

The more I looked at her, the harder it became for me to breathe. To hold my tears from escaping.

Why must this be so difficult?

I had everything set up for me. My parents worked their life for my sister and I. We had a comfortable life, we had almost no trouble from school. We got along with each other. We love each other as a good family is supposed to. There was nothing wrong.

The biggest factor was my college. I have the opportunity most people had to earn to get it.

Free college education in the state that I live in. The catch? I had to stay under their wing until I graduate.

My father was a veteran in the Navy. So this is only one of the benefits that he received. On the otherhand, my mother came from a different country and landed herself a great job.

So why do I have the urge to leave?

Behind my family's image were tiny problems sprinkled in.

My parents were overbearing. They watched me constantly, I honestly don't remember ever having alone time at all.

But I disregarded this feeling. I was happy that I got to spend time with my parents. As a result, I became dependent on them.

I didn't learn how to count money until recently. Shocking isn't it? At my age, I should learn how to drive or at least clean my own room. I didn't have to worry about anything except for my grades.

And even then, I failed horribly. I wasn't great in school, not like my sister, who was thirteen years older than me.

I had below average GPA. That was all on me, not my parents. They tried to help me by talking with the teachers,trying to lend a hand, and helping me focus.

It really wasn't enough to motivate me. In fact, it did quite the opposite. And then I threw a hurdle into my family's life.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression. Depression from what? I have everything set up for me. Life was easy!

But I had an illness. An illness that I didn't want to share.

I had psychosis.

When I was younger, someone in my daycare dropped something on my head. I started hearing voices and felt the pain physically and mentally. I saw myself die over and over again for 17 years until I realized it wasn't real.

I hated myself for it. I hated that I kept everything to myself thinking I wouldn't further burden my parents. Yet, no matter what I did, in the end that's exactly what happened.

It wasn't their fault. In fact, it was I who didn't want to learn and help my own self. And then I realized.

I was creating problems.

My relationship with my family became strained when I met my boyfriend of six years online. I was thirteen, playing videogames at that time to distract myself from the pain my psychosis had caused.