Letters to You

Dear Parents

I know I'm spoiled rotten. I know it. I get way more than most kids, but there is a difference between being spoiled and being a spoiled brat. I'm not a brat- at least I don't think so. I appreciate everything you do for me. I really do.

However the amount of things you buy me do not make up for loving me. I feel like often I'm given things so that I am distracted enough to not realize that you really don't give a shit about how I feel, or what's going on in my life.

Every time I try to tell you about a problem I have, it's annoying and you are sick of me obsessing over things or you just don't want to hear it. Sometimes I start to tell you something, and halfway through you tell me that the conversation is over, or that you don't care.

I care.

My feelings matter. They do. just because I'm a teenager, and I'm naive, doesn't mean that my feelings and opinions don't matter, because they do. They really do.

I don't get a say in my life either. Whatever you choose, is always whats right, even if it's not.

You always say that I argue, but arguing is like the tango- it requires two people. you say that I'm hard headed, and too stubborn, and obsessive over things and yet I have to be loud and exhaustive about my opinion in order for you to even listen at all.

You always say how much you love me, but if you really loved me the way I need you to, you'd listen once and while. You would have my opinion matter. You'd take into consideration about my feelings about a decision and my life. I only get one. You've already lived a life, why do you feel the need to make every decision for me? Believe it or not, but my 4.0 means that I must be a little smart, and I can make decisions.

And you're so hypocritical. You say all the time about how you want me clean around the house all the time and take more responsibility, because I'm too old not to, yet the minute I want to judge people as friends instead of being told who to be friends with, suddenly I'm too young and naive to make any choices. It takes me all of five minutes to know if a person is someone I want to spend time with; if they're a person.

It's my life, and while you can guide me and help me make the right decisions, you're not helping me know how to pick the right one, if I don't get a choice until I'm on my own.

Please, stop yelling at me for everything. You always say that I could be perfect, if I was just less messy and less argumentative.

Nobody is perfect. If I'm that close, then I've given it a pretty good damn effort.

You tell me to work on being more organized, and argue less.

I try. The thing is, you never notice when I'm trying. You always see the negative. if I get an A, it's expected, but if I get a C, then I'm a failure. When I clean my room, you don't notice, but when I don't, you waste no time in informing me about it.

I'm never complimented on my hard work, and yes, I realize I shouldn't need applause for doing the right thing, but putting in an effort requires- at the very least- less yelling. I don't really feel like I deserve every word that you call me.

Don't call me selfish, and a spoiled brat, and self centered and egotistical. I hid in oversized shirts and jeans and hoodies for most of my childhood because I was so ashamed of myself, of my body, of the way I looked and the way people judged me. The worst part, is that it's partially your fault. You always expected me to do more than I can. I barely have time to sleep, much less clean everything top to bottom. I don't notice a crumb on the floor, I'm sorry.

I didn't have a good biological mother. I'm lucky to have you as my grandparents, and I thank whatever is responsible for putting you I my life, but that doesn't change the fact that I am her kid.

I won't ever give up or get in the wrong crowd of people, because my biggest fear is becoming her. I can't. It would break me. I don't need you to nag at me, or put me down. I do that enough myself.

I need positive people, and unfortunately you aren't very positive very often, and it hurts me.

I've cried a lot this year, and every single time it's been because of something you've done, or said. Because I'm not good enough to fit your standards. It hasn't been for any other reason. Not once this year.

I know my aunt is your idea of perfection. I know it. I get it. She couldn't do a single thing wrong, and compared to her, I'm a monster of a child. She never asked for anything, she was polite, she always had straight A's, and she never argued. She's as clean as you both are, and you couldn't be prouder of anybody else, and that anybody else includes me. However proud you are of her, it will always be more than the pride you hold for me. I get it.

I'm not supposed to even be here. I was a mistake. I understand.

I'm just sorry that I'm not good enough, and that I won't ever be good enough. You want perfection, and I just want love.

For a while, I stopped even believing in love, because I don't even remember what it looks like, and I'm too fat to ever be loved by anyone but family, and even in the family love was hard to ever see.

I'm ugly and fat and a mistake, and I wish I hadn't been born so that your son could've been happier, and you could've been happier and maybe I wouldn't be so miserable, because I wouldn't exist.

Know that I didn't deserve that slap two months ago. Know that I don't deserve some of the times you have hit me. Know that I feel unlovable and hurt and that I'm upset.

It's just a pity that you won't care anyways.

I'm sorry,

A very unhappy me.