DESIREE
I once read a quote.
A mother is the only person in the world who can turn a daughter's worries and fears into happiness.
I used to believe that, thinking maybe one day my mother could be that guiding light for me. But for us, the quote couldn't be further from the truth. If anything, it's the opposite.
My mother doesn't turn my fears into happiness.
She turns my happiness into something small, insignificant, and weak. She loathes anything that might pull me away from her vision of success.
Dreams? To her, they're childish distractions. They hold you back from achieving real success.
Happiness? She understands happiness, sure, but only when it's earned through money, control, and admiration. Her joy is in the power she wields, in the luxury she's built. It's never soft or warm. It's calculated, like another deal she's closed.
For years, I convinced myself that if I could just make her happy, I'd be happy too. If she approved of my grades, and praised my behavior, I would tell myself that her approval was all I needed. I'd force a smile, force myself to believe this was everything I'd ever wanted.
Even my dream of becoming a playwright, I buried so deeply that it was almost easy to pretend it didn't matter. It was just a silly, childish wish, something I told myself I'd grow out of.
After all, she knew best. Or so I thought.
From day one, she made the decisions. I was sent to the best schools, given private tutors, and signed up for extracurriculars. None of it was about my interests, it was about control, about crafting me into the perfect heir to her empire. I went along with it, thinking it would make her proud. Maybe even make her notice me.
But when I succeeded, when I brought home awards or aced my tests, she didn't offer me praise.
She'd hand me a designer purse I'd never use or some expensive gadget I didn't want, and I'd put it away in my room, right next to the pile of trophies she never cared to look at. They became things I barely looked at either, hidden reminders of achievements that felt empty.
Lately, though, something's been changing.
The things that used to feel "good enough" are no longer enough. Her plans, her dreams for me, they're starting to feel like clothes that don't fit.
What I once thought of as a life full of pride and accomplishment is starting to feel... farfetched.
I'm beginning to realize that simply making her happy won't be enough to fulfill me. It never was.
I looked down at my textbook, trying to refocus, but the words blurred together. This wasn't the first time I'd struggled to concentrate lately. Every time I tried to throw myself into the plans and studies she'd chosen, some small, rebellious part of me would push back. A question, faint but persistent, would rise in my mind, Is this really what I want?
YOU ARE READING
𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬
Romance"I warned you once not to look back... But here you are, tempting me again to ruin your happily ever after with her." My words hung heavy between us, but his smirk only deepened as he leaned in, so close our lips nearly touched. "Maybe I like the ri...