november

November 1, 2024 

Today was different—not because anything particularly amazing happened, but because I didn’t have school, and the quiet felt strange. Most Fridays are busy and predictable, but today moved slower. I spent part of it at the cemetery, visiting my lolo and my great-grandparents whom I've never personally met. It’s always a little surreal standing there, surrounded by people who were once so alive, their lives now condensed to names on stone. I wonder what they’d think of me now, what advice they’d give, or if they’d understand the things I struggle with.

I chatted with my relatives while I was there. We talked about family, small things, and life in that way you only can with someone who’s known you forever. And then, out of nowhere, we started talking about college. That’s when the weight of everything started creeping in again, heavier than I’d like to admit. The deadlines are close now and I find it suffocating. The pressure to make choices I’m not sure I’m ready for has been quite intense. Everyone makes it sound like the future is something you’re supposed to be excited about, but right now, it just feels like a boulder I’m trying to carry up a mountain.

There’s also the other thing—the person I like. I haven’t said it out loud to anyone, but I keep hoping they’ll notice me the way I notice them. Deep down, though, I know they probably won’t. That realization is like a slow, constant ache that I can’t ignore. I wish I could brush it off, but every time I see them, the feeling comes back, and I just can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me that makes it so impossible.

Honestly, I’m lost in my own head. I can’t figure out what I’m feeling, or even if I feel anything at all sometimes. I keep telling myself I’ll get my act together, that I’ll use the first day of this month to start fresh and actually take care of myself. But here I am, back in the same spiral. Disappointed in myself, again. It’s like there’s this expectation I can’t meet, and each day that passes just reinforces that feeling.

All I want to do is lie in bed and sink into the silence. Just stay there, away from everything, wrapped up in my blankets like they’re the only place I belong. The world feels heavy and overwhelming, and it seems like no matter how hard I try, I’m always two steps behind where I need to be.

November 2, 2024

Today has been an endless cycle of thoughts, swirling in my mind like leaves caught in a restless wind. I spent the whole day wondering whether the love I felt was genuine or just a fleeting infatuation. It’s exhausting trying to untangle my emotions, and lately, the whole concept of love has become so confusing. What is it, really? Is it a feeling that lasts, or just a temporary escape from my own solitude?

In my heart, I think I’ve been searching for a distraction—a way to fill the void that often feels overwhelming. I’ve been longing for someone to look forward to, someone to dream about, but I wonder if I’ve projected my desires onto this person rather than truly connecting with them. Maybe I’ve crafted an illusion, spinning fantasies of what could be while ignoring the reality of who we really are.

But as I reflect more deeply, I realize it’s time to let go. I’m ending the feelings I have left for this person, even though it hurts. I’ve given up for reasons I can’t entirely explain—perhaps fear, uncertainty, or the realization that holding on is causing more pain than it’s worth. It’s like grasping at smoke, and I’m left with nothing but a sense of loss and regret for what might have been.

There’s a bittersweet clarity in this decision. While it’s difficult to let go of the dreams I wrapped around us, I know that sometimes, surrendering is the first step toward healing. I’m learning that love doesn’t always look like grand gestures or fairy tales; sometimes, it’s about understanding when to step back and allow space for growth, even if it means saying goodbye to a piece of my heart.

Moving forward, I’d also like to actually focus on myself now. I want to invest time in my own growth, passions, and well-being. It’s time to prioritize my journey and discover who I am outside of someone else’s expectations or presence. Tomorrow, I hope to find strength in this acceptance and maybe even the courage to embrace the unknown that lies ahead.

November 3, 2024

Nothing out of the blue happened today. I went to church just to fall asleep. The boring atmosphere made it impossible not to doze off. I spent the rest of the day talking about petekey lol

November 4, 2024

Today’s been a hard day. We have asynchronous classes, which I usually appreciate since it lets me work at my own pace, but I just can’t seem to focus on anything. I was supposed to go to practice, but I woke up feeling off and had this pounding headache that wouldn’t go away. So, I skipped practice, thinking maybe some rest would help, but I still feel drained and unmotivated, like my body and mind are in slow motion.

I had planned to clean my room after practice. I keep telling myself it’ll help clear my head, but the thought of tidying up even one corner feels like climbing a mountain. Things are starting to pile up around me, and it’s only making me feel worse, but I just don’t have the energy to deal with it. I can see my to-do list growing longer and my space getting messier, but it’s like I’m paralyzed, just watching it all happen.

Then there’s the workload. I’m not sure if it’s just one of those weeks or if I’m behind, but the amount of assignments, readings, and projects hanging over me feels almost suffocating. Every time I try to start something, I think of something else I need to do, and it’s this endless cycle of remembering more tasks than I can keep up with. The pressure is like this weight pressing down, and I feel so scattered that I don’t even know where to begin. It’s almost as if I’m afraid to start because the mountain of work just looks too high to climb.

I know deep down that putting things off only makes it worse, but today, everything feels so heavy. I’m just exhausted, both physically and mentally, and I’m struggling to find even a small spark of motivation. It’s one of those days where I wish I could just press pause and let everything stop for a moment so I can breathe without feeling like I’m already falling behind.

November 5, 2024

I dragged myself to school today, despite not feeling my best. Maybe it was the headache weighing me down, or maybe it was the anxiety over how the day would unfold. The hours crawled by without much happening. I got my score back in Media and Information Literacy—41 out of 50. It stung a bit, especially since I expected more, but I was too drained to feel much disappointment. It was as if I'd run out of the energy to care.

There was a physics quiz I hadn't reviewed for, so I'm bracing for a not-so-stellar result. Then, we checked our chemistry test, and I could already feel the one-digit score waiting to mock me. It’s one of those days when everything feels like a dull slap of reality.

On my way to Bluebay, hunger struck like a punch. It felt like I hadn't eaten all day, even though I had—a breakfast of rice and nuggets, and later, three Nutella sandwiches. But my stomach disagreed, grumbling as if I’d starved it for hours. Lost in thought and hunger, I tripped over my own feet. It was just that kind of day.

After school, practice drained what little energy I had left. I wanted to walk home from the park, but I knew I wouldn’t make it without collapsing. Instead, I took an indirect route, hopping on two jeepneys and opting for the longer ride. I wasn't in a hurry to get home. The idea of facing my parents with another story of failure made the detour feel like a small, much-needed escape.

The ride took a little over half an hour, and for that short stretch of time, I felt something close to peace. But as soon as I stepped through the door, that sense of relief vanished. My sister came home with news of her low scores, and the house filled with the familiar sound of blame and frustration. Our parents fell into their usual cycle of pointing fingers at each other, with the same old plea, “Tulungan mo naman kapatid mo.”

It’s ironic, really. I can barely keep my own responsibilities straight—how am I supposed to be anyone’s help? There’s a strange kind of numbness settling in, as if I’m both present and detached from everything happening around me. It's like I'm watching my life unfold from the outside, just waiting for the next day to begin, hoping it'll be a little less heavy.

November 6, 2024

Today I didn’t feel like going to school. I wasn’t feeling well, and it wasn’t just the usual fatigue—I woke up with my head pounding, and my stomach was twisted in sharp cramps that refused to ease up. After a while, I just gave in and decided to stay home, hoping maybe a day off would let me finally catch my breath. But the day didn't exactly start peacefully.

By the time I managed to pull myself out of bed and head downstairs for something to eat, I was already bracing myself, almost like I knew what was coming. Sure enough, as soon as I sat down, my grandma launched into another rant, this time about my sister. She didn't even bother giving me any context—just dove right into her frustration, expecting me to be fully up to speed on whatever my sister had apparently done this time. Meanwhile, I was barely functioning, still groggy from the headache and nausea I’d been wrestling with all morning. It was overwhelming, sitting there half-awake, with her words blurring together while I tried to process everything.

I don’t know why, but everyone in this family seems to think I’m the designated dumping ground for their issues. No matter what’s going on, I’m the one they turn to, venting about everything and anything as if I have some magical ability to fix their lives. It’s exhausting. They never stop to consider that I have problems too, that maybe I need someone to lean on instead of always being leaned on. What’s worse, I don't think my sister has to deal with this as often as I do. She gets to float through all the drama completely untouched, while I’m here, buried under everyone’s secrets and anger, carrying around this invisible weight I never asked for.

It’s not just annoying—it’s suffocating. Every time they pull me into their mess, it chips away at me. I feel trapped, like I'm this receptacle for everyone’s pain and frustration. I know every complaint, every hidden bitterness. Sometimes I wonder if they even see me as a person or just as a place to offload their own misery.

And I get it—I know everyone has struggles, everyone needs to vent. But why does it have to be me every time? Why am I the one who has to hold it all? It’s as if they don’t see how it wears me down, how it builds up inside me until there’s barely room for anything else. I feel like I’m drowning in this sea of other people’s problems, with no one even noticing I’m slipping under.

Today, staying home was supposed to be a break, a chance to catch my breath. But instead, it’s just more of the same, like no matter what I do, I can’t escape. I’m tired—tired of the anger, tired of the guilt, and tired of being the only one who’s expected to hold all these broken pieces together.

Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my shoe broke the moment I stepped off the jeep. The sole peeled right off, and I had to spend my entire day’s allowance on a small tube of Mighty Bond just to fix it. Not even an hour later, my left shoe decided to follow suit. Why is instant glue so expensive when there’s barely anything in there? I honestly considered walking home in my socks, but thankfully my aunt came to the rescue with a pair of slippers after I told her what happened.

I only had 200 pesos left, so buying new shoes was out of the question; everything cost way more than that, and I wasn’t sure where else to look. At least I ended the day with a nice dinner at Bonchon. After skipping breakfast and not eating for hours, it felt like the one good thing to happen all day.

November 7, 2024

Today felt like I was drowning in my own thoughts, like being submerged in an ocean where nothing’s holding me down, yet I still can’t break the surface. It’s strange because nothing really bothers me, but I feel like it should. I used to care so deeply about my grades, about achieving something, about all the tiny details that once made me feel like I was doing okay. But that part of me feels switched off now, numb and quiet. I can’t bring myself to care about the consequences, as if it doesn’t matter what path this takes me down. It’s been like this for a while, and I thought maybe I was just exhausted, maybe sleep would help. But even after six hours, it didn’t lift my mood. I still feel like I’m in this haze that I can’t shake.

Maybe reconnecting with an old friend who once cut me off was the final straw today. I thought I could handle it, but it drained me. She cut ties so abruptly back then, blocking me on everything, and now suddenly she wants to be friends again? There was something unsettling about it, and I felt disrespected, like she expects me to overlook the hurt just because she’s decided it’s convenient to talk again. We weren’t even close back then; even when she’d occasionally greet me, there was this tension. We never really talked about what happened, and I don’t think we ever will.

Deep down, I feel like she’s reaching out for her own reasons, not because she genuinely wants to reconnect. I get the sense she’s using me to get close to someone else, like I’m a stepping stone to information about her crush in our class. I don’t like the feeling of being a tool in someone’s game, like my own feelings don’t matter. She only reaches out when it’s convenient for her, and that makes me feel small, disposable. It’s frustrating because I was doing fine without her. I got used to her absence, built walls to protect myself from that familiar hurt, and now she’s trying to break them down without even a second thought. I’m not ready to lower those walls, and honestly, I don’t think I want to.

I wish things could just stay as they were: her on her side, me on mine. I feel like I’ve had to harden myself over time just to keep from feeling so affected by her choices. I don’t miss her, and I don’t want the weight of this half-hearted friendship to pull me down again. I just want to find some sense of calm, some escape from feeling like I’m constantly treading water alone. More than anything, I wish I could shake this fog, this heavy sense of emptiness, and feel like I’m in control of something in my life again.

November 8, 2024

Today felt like facing the consequences of all my own choices. I crammed every last task due, stretched myself to the limit, and somehow managed to get through it all. But satisfaction? Nowhere in sight. I keep telling myself not to let it bother me, but it's hard to ignore just how much I’ve lost any real care for my academics. This week has been brutal; you’d think the semestral break last week would’ve offered some relief, but instead, it only heightened the stress. It's like I got a taste of rest only to be thrown back into chaos.

The endless pile of assignments, the creeping deadlines, the expectations—they’re all closing in, and I’m at the point where I just want everything to stop for a moment. If I could split myself in two or somehow turn my mind off, I would. But reality keeps pushing forward, and I feel like I'm barely hanging on. Then, as if things weren’t hard enough, we got the news about having Saturday classes. Losing my weekends feels like the final blow, like there’s no space left to breathe. Tomorrow is at least asynchronous, but let’s be real—I already know I’ll procrastinate and end up rushing to finish by the deadline.

Walking home has become my only escape lately. Instead of commuting, I take these long, grueling walks in the heat, letting the sun beat down on me. There's something about the discomfort that makes me feel alive. The sweat, the shortness of breath—it’s like I’m pushing myself just to feel something other than exhaustion. Sometimes, I imagine just stopping, collapsing in the middle of the road, letting everything fade away for a moment. Walking this way, even if I end up looking a mess, feels like one of the few things I have control over.

But today, all that pressure boiled over. When I got home, my mom asked me to do a simple favor. It wasn’t even much, just a small thing, but I was done. I felt this wall go up; I wasn’t in the mood to do anything, especially for her. So I lashed out, snapping over something that didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit right away, but I was too exhausted to care. It’s like I’m always running on empty, stretched thin between meeting everyone else’s needs and ignoring my own until I just can’t anymore. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve become a shell of myself, just going through the motions, unsure of who I am outside of all these responsibilities.

There are days when I want to disappear, just to escape from everything and everyone, including myself. I don’t even know what it feels like to breathe freely without this constant weight. The responsibilities, the expectations—it all feels suffocating. It’s as if my life isn’t my own, like I’m trapped in this loop, stuck being this version of me that feels so disconnected.

I don’t know how to fix it, and maybe that’s what scares me most. This endless cycle, the feeling that I’m on a path I didn’t even choose—it makes me want to scream, to do anything that feels real. But all I can do is keep pushing forward, hoping that somehow, somewhere along the way, I’ll find a way out of this.

November 9, 2024

I feel like I’m just… unraveling, piece by piece. It’s like I’m getting pulled in every direction, and I’m losing any sense of who I am or what I even want anymore. Every little thing just sets me off, like there’s this constant buzzing tension under my skin, and I can’t make it stop. I want to just disappear, to leave everything and everyone behind for a while, just so I can finally breathe again without the weight pressing down on my chest.

The amount of work piling up is suffocating. My head’s constantly running with deadlines, due dates, assignments, and then—group projects. I hate them. It’s the feeling of constantly needing to prove I’m not dead weight, constantly fearing I’m dragging others down. No matter how much I try, I always feel like I’m falling short. And the worst part? It’s like no one notices how much I’m trying to keep up. They just expect it. The constant need to prove myself is exhausting, and honestly, I feel like I’m the only one who’s drowning while everyone else just swims right past me.

And Sundays. Sundays are off-limits. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to my parents, but no matter what, they won’t let me go out on Sundays. Even if it’s for school or something important, even if my grades are on the line, they won’t budge. The one time they let me attend something on a Sunday, my mom made it clear it would be the last time. It's infuriating. I'm 18 now—I’m supposed to be able to make my own choices. But instead, I feel like I’m stuck fighting a losing battle every single time I want to do something they don’t approve of.

The worst part is, they act like they’re giving me freedom. They’ll let me go to certain things, but always with a heavy set of conditions, and there’s always this silent judgment hanging in the air, like I have to be constantly careful not to lose the tiny bit of trust they’ve grudgingly given me. It’s maddening. They’ll let me go to a practice or event, but only if they feel like it’s justified—and God forbid I want to go somewhere or do something they don’t understand. It’s like I’m supposed to ask for permission to live my own life, and that’s just… it’s unbearable. I thought being 18 would mean some independence, but I feel as controlled as ever, and it’s humiliating.

They don’t know that the only reason I even get to do some things is because I lie. I hate that. I hate lying about my whereabouts and what I’m doing, but it feels like the only way I can have even the smallest bit of freedom. And that freedom isn’t even real—it’s always conditional, always fleeting, and I can’t shake the feeling that they’ll never actually trust me to just be. It’s painful to realize that, no matter how much I try to prove myself, it might never be enough for them to actually believe in me.

Last year, I couldn’t even step outside alone. They insisted on someone following me, watching over me like I was some kind of liability. It felt degrading, like I wasn’t worth trusting at all. It’s like every decision I make, every step I take, is questioned or scrutinized. And as much as I try to be patient, to understand where they’re coming from, I’m at the end of my rope. The patience I used to have is gone, replaced by this deep frustration that just keeps building with every restriction, every “no” without an explanation. I’m tired of having to justify my life to people who don’t seem to believe in my ability to live it.

Sometimes, I wonder if they even see me as a person who can make her own choices, who has her own needs and dreams. I want to tell them everything, to let them know how much this constant control is wearing me down. But I know it’ll only lead to more restrictions, more arguments, more of the same walls being built up between us. So I keep it all in. I stay quiet and pretend like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t hurt, because I know they won’t understand. And in doing so, it feels like I’m losing parts of myself, silencing pieces of who I am just to keep the peace.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I’m exhausted from playing this double life, from trying to live within these invisible fences they’ve set up around me. I’m trying to hold it together, but each day it feels harder and harder to keep pretending that I’m okay with it. All I want is for them to understand—even a little bit—that I’m capable of handling my life, that I deserve the chance to figure things out on my own. But that feels like a distant dream, and I don’t know how long I can keep clinging to it before it slips away entirely.

I've been frustrated all day, consumed by thoughts about the relationship I have with my mother. It got to the point where I found myself scrolling back through our old Messenger conversations, trying to remember the last time she apologized to me. As it turns out, it's been over a year—specifically since I opened up to her about my suicidal thoughts. I remember the courage it took to share that, hoping it might lead to some kind of understanding between us. She knows about my struggles, and yet, at the time, she seemed convinced that I was handling things well; that I was fine with the help of "God".

I confessed to her how much I’d been battling on my own these past few months, especially with how her behavior and condition have weighed heavily on me. I laid my vulnerability bare, hoping she might see my pain, maybe even offer some kind of comfort or support. But instead, it felt like I ended up on trial. No matter what I said, somehow, everything circled back to being my fault. Her words felt dismissive, like she was more focused on my supposed failings than on understanding the hurt I was trying to express. It’s hard to know how to keep trying when every attempt to reach out feels like it’s pushed back at me, making me question if I’ll ever find the connection or empathy I’ve been seeking.

It started with her assuming I was mad at her, and maybe looking back, I am. A part of me is angry at myself, constantly questioning if I’ve been a good enough daughter or if I could have done so much more to bridge the gap between us. But there’s another part of me that’s aggravated at her, at the way she’s treated me over these years. I can’t help but wonder if she truly sees me as her daughter or if her love depends on the things I accomplish or the ways I make her proud.

It’s been painful to realize that sometimes, I feel more like a reflection of her expectations than her child. The constant feeling of falling short and of being judged has made it hard for me to even open up to her without bracing myself for blame or disappointment. I can’t shake the thought—am I only her daughter when I live up to her standards? And if I fall short, am I anything to her at all?

This thought has weighed on me for so long, making me question my own worth and feel so undeserving of love when I don’t meet her ideals. I want to be seen for who I am, not just for what I can accomplish. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s aware of the weight her words carry, or if she’s oblivious to how deeply her conditional support cuts. I’m torn between wanting to understand her, to empathize with her struggles, and the anger I feel over the way she’s made me feel—trapped in this cycle of needing to be “good enough” for her approval, even at the cost of my own well-being.

Is it so wrong to wish for unconditional love and acceptance? Or am I somehow asking too much of her, expecting something she might never be able to give? It’s ironic, really. A full year later, almost to the day, we had another fight. It’s a pattern I know all too well, one we always seem to fall back into. We argue, and then comes the silence—the days we spend ignoring each other, retreating to our separate corners, pretending it doesn’t hurt. Eventually, we might attempt to act civil, exchanging brief, emotionless words like we’re just two strangers in the same space, putting on a performance of being “okay.” But it’s always just been an act, isn’t it?

Every time this happens, it feels like we’re widening the distance between us, like our relationship is this fragile thing we keep chipping away at. There’s this unspoken tension, a lingering resentment that never fully fades. It’s as though we’re each waiting for the other to bridge the gap, but neither of us knows how. Or maybe we’re too hurt, too worn down, to even try. And it’s exhausting—cycling through the same emotions, the same unresolved issues, and knowing that, inevitably, we’ll end up here again. I don’t know if we’ve ever truly moved past a single one of our arguments. Instead, we just bury them, piling one grievance on top of another until the weight becomes unbearable. And each time, I’m left wondering if we’ll ever be able to break this cycle, if we’ll ever find a way to connect without tearing each other down in the process.

Sometimes, I wonder if this is all we’ll ever have—these fractured conversations, these fleeting moments of pretending, followed by days of silence. It makes me question if we’re holding onto anything real, or if we’re simply clinging to an idea of what we think a mother-daughter relationship should be, even though we’re struggling to make it work. With all the fights and arguments I’ve had with her, I feel like I’ve finally had enough. It doesn’t affect me the same way it once did, or at least that’s what I try to convince myself. There was a time when I used to cry almost daily because of the pointless fights she would pick with me. It was like she needed a target for her anger, and for some reason, I became that person. I’d be left carrying the weight of her frustration, feeling like I couldn’t do anything right.

There were days when I felt too sick, too drained from the arguments, to even get out of bed and go to school. I’d go through the motions, holding in the pain because I didn’t feel like I had anyone to turn to. After she became disabled, everyone seemed to expect me to be the mature one. And in some way, I tried to be—tried to step up, tried to understand, tried to shoulder the burden. But there’s this feeling of unfairness that gnaws at me, this question I can’t shake: why should I suddenly change the way I see her, just because of what’s happened?

I know she’s my mother, and that’s supposed to mean something, supposed to make everything she’s done somehow forgivable. But that expectation feels crushing, especially when I’m still carrying so much hurt. I’ve been treated like I don’t matter, like my feelings are secondary. And now, because of her condition, it feels like I’m expected to forget all of that—to just set aside the years of hurt, to rise above, to be the “better person.” But I’m exhausted. I’ve reached a point where my empathy has been worn down to nothing. I’m at the edge, drained of understanding for someone who has done nothing but bring me pain.

It feels like I’m supposed to put aside everything I’ve been through, as if my experiences don’t count because she’s the one who needs help now. But the truth is, I’m barely holding myself together. I want to be compassionate, to be the “good daughter,” but at what cost? My heart feels like it’s being pulled in two directions—one part of me desperate to hold onto some kind of relationship with her, and the other wanting to protect myself from more pain. And as much as I try to numb myself, to pretend her words don’t affect me, deep down, they still hurt. It’s like being asked to pour from an empty cup, to give love and patience that I no longer have.

I just want a normal relationship with her. Despite everything, I still yearn for my mother’s love, for a connection that doesn’t feel so distant, so filled with resentment. There’s a part of me that keeps hoping, keeps longing for things to change, to feel that warmth and acceptance from her. But it feels like the moment she became disabled was the moment I truly lost her. She’s become someone I barely recognize, a stranger where my mother used to be. Or maybe this has always been who she is, and I was just convincing myself that we were finally beginning to understand each other—that we were starting to be okay—before everything fell apart.

Now, I’m not sure of anything. The dreams I had of a better relationship, of finding peace between us, seem further away than ever. I can’t shake this feeling that things will never be okay again, that there’s no going back to what we could have been. There’s so much anger and sadness tangled up in me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her for the hurt she’s caused. She’s hurt me in ways I can’t put into words, leaving wounds that haven’t healed and scars that won’t fade. And yet, there’s still this ache, this desperate hope for a different version of our story. I want so badly to believe that we could rebuild something, that there’s a future where I don’t feel like I’m always at war with the person who was supposed to be my biggest source of comfort. But every time I think about reaching out, about opening myself up again, I’m reminded of all the times she let me down, the countless moments I’ve felt invisible to her.

I don’t know if it’s possible to move forward when I’m holding on to so much pain. There’s a part of me that feels trapped—trapped by the love I still have for her, the love that makes me wish things were different. But I also feel weighed down by the anger that tells me I shouldn’t have to carry this alone, that it’s unfair for me to be the one constantly trying to mend something I didn’t break. I’m torn between wanting to forgive her and wanting to protect myself from the hurt she keeps causing.

I’m left wondering if forgiveness is even possible when there’s been so little acknowledgment, so little remorse. It feels like I’ve been waiting for an apology that may never come, for her to see me and understand the damage that’s been done. And the more time that passes, the more I wonder if I have to let go of that hope—for my own sake. But letting go feels like accepting that things will never be what I hoped, that I’ll never have the mother-daughter relationship I’ve always wanted.

It’s heartbreaking to think that we might never find a way back to each other, that I might always feel this sense of loss for something that was never really there to begin with. I feel like I’m mourning a relationship that never truly existed—a fantasy of what could have been, a love that maybe was never there.

November 10, 2024

I’m so incredibly tired. I feel like I’ve been running on empty for so long, but I don’t even know where the finish line is. It’s like I’m stuck in this endless loop where no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I somehow managed to get myself to practice today, but now, I’m stuck with this new responsibility—leading the nightly prayers. It’s something we haven’t done in months, and I don’t even understand why I’m the one who has to step up for it. It’s just another thing I have to do to meet my parents’ expectations. Why do they keep pushing this religious stuff on me? It’s like they think that by making me do these things, I’ll magically care about it, but I don’t. Last night, I finally built up the courage to ask if I could attend practice today, and of course, I got hit with the same tired line from my mom: Sundays are for church and family. It’s funny because we don’t even talk on Sundays. We just sit there, eat lunch together, and then go to church in dead silence. When we’re there, I feel nothing but emptiness. I just zone out, because none of it feels real to me anymore.

After so much begging, my dad finally agreed to let me go to practice today, but that came with my mom’s usual condemnation, telling me I was straying further away from God. And no matter how many times I’ve explained myself, it doesn’t matter. She just keeps telling me I’m wrong. I’m caught between my responsibilities to be a good student, to be a dutiful daughter, and to try and find even a little bit of space for myself. I try so hard to do everything—be there for my family, keep up with my grades, show up for practice—but I feel like I’m always on the verge of falling short. There’s no room for me to just be, to not have every minute of my life planned out with obligations. It’s like everyone else’s needs come first, and I’m just here, trying to keep everything together, but barely holding on.

Some days, I just wish I could disappear. I feel like if I could, everything would be easier, for me and everyone else. I would be free from this constant weight of expectation. I’m tired of feeling like I’m never enough, no matter how much I give. I put so much into everything—into school, into my responsibilities, into being what everyone expects of me—and yet, it feels like none of it matters. It’s like I’m a failure before I even start. I can’t even cry anymore because I’ve become numb to it all. I’ve been dealing with this for so long that I’ve just accepted it as part of my life. I’ve stopped believing that things can get better. I’ve stopped hoping that I could one day feel good enough. I’ve convinced myself that I’ll never be anything more than what everyone else needs me to be.

The more I try to push through, the more I feel like I’m losing myself. There’s so much pressure, so many things I have to juggle, and it feels like I’m constantly running out of time. I don’t want to go to school anymore. I don’t want to deal with all these responsibilities that just keep piling on top of me. It’s like I’m trying to keep my head above water, but there’s always something pulling me under. I just want a break, but there’s no time for one. There’s no time for me to pause, to stop and just breathe. Every day feels like a constant race, and no matter how fast I go, I’m always falling behind.

I don’t know how to balance all of this. I try so hard, but it feels like I’m drowning in my own efforts. Every time I think I have a handle on things, another responsibility comes crashing down on me. I’m just trying to keep everything together, but nothing ever feels like it’s enough. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move will make me fall. But no matter how close I get to the edge, I can’t stop moving. I can’t stop pushing myself, because if I do, everything will fall apart. It’s a constant fear that if I stop for even a second, everything will crash down around me.

I don’t have anyone to talk to about all of this. I feel like if I try to share what’s really going on inside, I’ll be seen as weak or ungrateful. I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems, so I keep it all locked inside. Even when I do have the chance to open up, I don’t know how. It’s easier to laugh it off, to pretend like everything’s fine, because if I admit how much I’m struggling, it makes it all too real. I’ve learned to suppress my emotions so well that I don’t even know how to let them out anymore. It’s like I’ve built a wall around myself, and now I don’t know how to take it down.

I’m constantly trying to please everyone, trying to be everything they want me to be, but somewhere along the way, I’ve lost myself. I don’t know who I am anymore outside of these roles I’m forced to play. And it’s exhausting. I can’t keep pretending to be okay when I’m not. I can’t keep putting everyone else first, when all I want is a moment to just exist for myself. But I don’t even know how to ask for that. I don’t know how to ask for space or time to just breathe, because it feels selfish to even consider it. I feel like I’m stuck, like I’m being crushed under the weight of everyone’s expectations, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this. It’s like I’m losing myself, and I don’t know how to get back.

November 11, 2024

Today was emotionally draining, exhausting every ounce of energy I had. Classes were canceled due to a Signal No. 1 warning in my city, yet I still woke up early, preparing to attend two different practices for school performance tasks that were scheduled for tomorrow. I knew the storm warning was in effect, but it was barely raining, and I felt like I couldn’t afford to miss practice if there was a chance we’d have classes the next day. So, I went to my dad to ask if I could go, fully aware of what his response would be. True to form, he refused, using the storm as his reason, even though there was hardly a drizzle.

My mom overheard me pleading, and she was instantly annoyed by my persistence. She even threatened to message the parents' group chat to complain about the school holding practice on a storm day. I felt this huge wave of frustration and helplessness, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself crying. It wasn’t just a few tears, either – I cried for almost two hours, desperate to go, desperate to explain how much this practice mattered for my grade. I eventually gave up, feeling drained and defeated, and went upstairs to tell my group I couldn’t make it. Their replies came back full of disappointment, and that hit me hard. These tasks are due tomorrow, and the chance of them being postponed is slim, so I feel like I’ve let them down. I felt so guilty for not being there, especially knowing that my absence would make things harder for everyone else.

Just when I thought all hope was lost, my parents surprisingly offered a compromise, though it came with conditions: I could go to practice today *if* I agreed to a list of chores. I’d have to wash the dishes left at night, lead our nightly prayers, and tutor my younger sister. On top of that, I’d need to send my mom updates every hour, responding immediately whenever she asked. If I failed to meet any of these conditions, I’d be sent to the teen church service – something I can’t stand. With no other option, I accepted.

I finally made it to practice, which felt like a minor victory in the middle of this mess. As luck would have it, I was assigned to work on props rather than perform, which was honestly a huge relief. I didn’t think I could handle any more intense rehearsals, especially for our speech choir, so this felt like the one good thing about my day. But then, just as I was starting to feel okay, my phone started buzzing. My mom was messaging me again, this time angrily, because I missed a reply in one of the updates she’d requested. My heart sank, and the anxiety hit me so hard that I ended up breaking down right there. I felt completely overwhelmed. All this stress, this feeling of constantly being watched and controlled – it was too much.

I’m already 18, but it feels like I have zero freedom. Here I am, practically an adult, yet I’m constantly being held back like I’m still a child. After everything that happened today, I’m left with this added pressure to get honors, despite my parents insisting they “don’t care” about my grades. The irony is suffocating; just because I begged for the chance to attend practice, now they’re holding it over me as if I have something to prove. It feels stupid and unfair. I honestly don’t even know what I’m being punished for anymore.

Why do I have to constantly seek their approval when I’m my own person? I understand they’re my parents, but there’s a line between guidance and control. When their rules become this restrictive, are they even worth following? It’s exhausting, especially when the expectations don’t make sense and only seem to reflect their anxieties rather than my own needs.

This situation also makes me question a lot about religion. My parents always bring up this one verse, emphasizing how we “must obey our parents no matter what.” But is blind obedience really the right thing when it’s affecting me so negatively? Where’s the line between respect and losing yourself just to satisfy someone else? It feels like there’s this expectation to submit completely, even if it means ignoring my own well-being.

At this point, I can’t help but wonder if they’re more concerned with maintaining control than with actually seeing me grow. They’re forcing me to fit into this mold, and it’s like my own needs and goals are secondary to their ideas of what’s “right.” I want to find my own path, to prove to myself that I’m capable, but it feels like every step forward is met with a wall. I’m constantly being reminded that they have the final say, that I owe them unquestioning obedience – and that suffocates me.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m stuck in this endless cycle of appeasing them, only to be met with even more rules. It’s like I’m not allowed to live my life until they’re ready to let me. I want so badly to break free from this, to be trusted with my own life. But as long as I’m here, I don’t know if that’s even possible.

There’s this constant feeling that no matter what I do, it’s never enough. If I ask for something, I’m being “too demanding.” If I try to explain my point of view, I’m “being disrespectful.” And even if I follow their rules, I still have to walk on eggshells to avoid setting them off. I’m so tired of living in fear of disappointing them, of feeling like a prisoner in my own life. All I want is a chance to experience things, to grow, to learn from my mistakes, but instead, I feel suffocated under their control.

What’s worse is that they don't see how this impacts me mentally. I’m beginning to feel trapped in my own home, like my own parents are a barrier to my growth. I crave a bit of freedom, the chance to prove that I can handle responsibility, but they won’t give me that opportunity. Instead, it’s this endless cycle of rules, conditions, and punishments. I know they think they’re doing what’s best, but to me, it feels like they’re chipping away at who I am, bit by bit.

It feels like they’re more concerned with controlling me than allowing me to grow. They’re focused on my obedience, my compliance, even if it’s damaging. I can’t help but feel trapped, watching my social life and independence slip away as they hold me to their rules, rules that seem more about control than care. I’m so tired of fighting to be seen as capable, as someone who deserves trust. And every time I think I’ve reached the point where I can prove myself, the walls go up again.

I can’t even enjoy simple things anymore without feeling like I’m walking on a tightrope. It’s exhausting trying to balance my own needs with their expectations. It’s exhausting constantly being told what’s right for me, but never being trusted to figure things out on my own. The more I try to take ownership of my life, the more they try to pull the reins tighter. I know they love me, but it doesn’t feel like it. Love shouldn’t feel like this – love shouldn’t be about control. It shouldn’t be about keeping someone small just to make them feel safe. I’m 18, and I’m begging for a chance to breathe, but instead, I’m suffocating.

November 12, 2024

I don’t know what to do anymore. Every day feels like a repeat, dragging me through the same routine that only seems to dig the hole deeper. My relationship with my parents is beyond repair, and isolation has become a strange comfort, a way to shield myself from everyone else. I have piles of work to do as a student, but I can’t bring myself to even try anymore. Why should I? It feels pointless, like every effort is swallowed up by something I can't control.

All day, I've been thinking about escape. I've mapped out a plan for what I want my life to be—an exit route and, honestly, a way to disappear from this world. I'm more serious about this than I’ve ever been about anything else, and the idea of backing out feels impossible now. Life seems like a never-ending game, juggling endless problems that pile up, refusing to give me a moment to breathe. I can’t see myself holding on long enough to make it out okay. Nothing sticks, nothing helps; everything I try feels temporary, like it's only numbing things for a while. I keep hearing people say I have to keep going, that this is just life. But why? Why should I keep going when every day feels like a battle I can’t win?

I’m tired of feeling like I'm carrying an invisible weight, one that only I can feel while everyone around me carries on. They look at me like I’m fine, like everything should be normal. But nothing feels real, and I don’t feel like I'm truly living. Instead, I’m just here, going through it all, waiting for something to change but knowing, deep down, it probably never will.

November 13, 2024

Today was awful. I felt like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. And I did, just not how I thought I would. I’ve been still keeping my distance from my parents, answering them in short phrases or sometimes just staying quiet. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m so upset, but everything has just been weighing down on me. It hurt so much to see them sit there, watching me plead just to be able to attend practice, without any sympathy. The way they provoked me, hitting my weaknesses directly, insulting me for something that, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t even worth getting worked up over—it was like they didn’t care. The worst part was, I couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it hurt so much? Why was this the thing that broke me?

The feeling of being so behind at school is way more obvious now. My teacher noticed how much I’ve been struggling, and it’s been humiliating. I know she didn’t mean to hurt me, but with everything that’s been going on, I’ve been losing track of what to prioritize. It’s hard to focus on one thing when there’s so much else pulling at me, and no matter how hard I try, it always feels like it’s never enough. She made it seem like I wasn’t putting in enough effort, but what if I’m just failing to meet an expectation I can’t reach anymore? It’s hard to care about failing when nothing else seems to matter. My problems outside of school have been dragging me down—physically, mentally—and it feels like no one sees it. When you’re at your lowest, does anyone really expect you to be perfect? Does anyone understand what it’s like to feel like you’re not even trying to fail, but you’re doing it anyway?

And if things couldn’t get worse, the feeling of not having any real friends has been hitting me more than it should. It just seems like everything I do is wasted. Today was proof of that. I spent hours working on a part of the prop for the speech choir, but when it came down to it, no one used it. It felt like I had put in so much effort, and it all just went unnoticed. They didn’t even check what I was doing. Our leader said to keep it on hold because it might be used later, but when exactly? When is "later" in this mess? It felt like everything I contributed just didn’t matter, like I didn’t matter. Yesterday, I got a message from a classmate, telling me that another classmate had to do everything by himself because I wasn’t there to help. But I had already asked our leader if I needed to go to practice, but they said it wasn't needed. I was waiting for what I needed to do but I didn’t get an answer. So why did it feel like I was being blamed anyway?

For some reason, it always feels like no one takes me seriously. They think they know more than me, that I’m not up to their level, and maybe I’m not. Maybe they’re right, and that’s what hurts. Maybe that’s why I feel so isolated, like no matter how much I try, I’ll never belong. I wanted to go home early, escape from it all, but I didn’t. I stayed, and I watched everyone else celebrate their perfect performance, while all I saw was darkness. There was no light around me. It’s hard not to feel like I’m just freeloading when all I’ve done is contribute what I could—just following orders like a dog. It’s like everyone already thinks lowly of me, so why should I bother adding fuel to the fire? But I couldn’t help it. I volunteered to do the props just to contribute, but now, even that has been wasted. It’s just one more thing that means nothing. I damaged my relationship with my parents by begging them to let me go to practice, and now here I am, trying to make up for it, and it doesn’t seem like it’s ever going to be enough.

I was so angry today. I just wanted to be left alone. After class, I had to go see my mom to try on my new school uniform, and it made everything worse. I didn’t want to spend time with anyone. I didn’t want to talk, to explain myself, to do anything. The anger, the frustration—it was all too much. I ended up projecting all my frustration onto my parents. I hated that they could see it on my face. I hate that when I’m upset, it’s so obvious. They insisted I go home with them, but after everything that had happened, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be around anyone anymore. I’d rather be alone with my thoughts than deal with more people telling me what to do, why I should feel a certain way.

As I was walking home, my mom messaged me. She asked what I was so angry about, telling me I was being disrespectful. Apparently, showing the same energy that was being given to me makes me disrespectful now. She doesn’t even realize how much she’s hurt me. There have been days when she wouldn’t talk to me, when she would make it so clear that she was upset with me. But does it hurt her the same way when she’s on the receiving end? Does she even care? I wish she would ask me how I’m really feeling instead of just assuming that I’m the one who’s at fault.

When I got home, I ate, but it didn’t help. It never helps. I finished my food quickly and rushed to my room, desperate to get away from everything. Not even ten minutes later, I just broke down. I couldn’t keep it together anymore. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, and it finally came pouring out. I couldn’t stop crying, and it felt like the world was just too much to bear. But instead of getting the peace I needed, my mom called me three times, not even understanding that I was falling apart. She sent me a link about college applications that were due in two days, and all I could think was, “Does she even care what’s going on with me?” She didn’t even notice how much I was struggling. She didn’t see how much I was breaking down inside. She just kept pushing, like it was another thing I should just deal with, like I’m supposed to carry everything, even when I can’t handle it anymore.

Then my dad came upstairs to check on me. He asked me if I was aware of the application deadlines, but then he saw me crying, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to fix this, and the worst part was, he tried to make it seem like his words would help, but they didn’t. They only made me feel worse. I felt so invalidated, like my emotions didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how much I was hurting; he just wanted to get an answer from me, like everything could be fixed with just a few words. But nothing helped.

And then came the second round of interrogation from my mom. She messaged me when I was already at my breaking point, and instead of understanding, she gave me this long speech about how she was "worried" about me. How she was trying to protect me, because she loved me. But I didn’t feel loved. I felt smothered, trapped in her words. I hated how she tried to justify everything she did by sharing her own experiences. Just because she went through something doesn’t mean I have to go through it too. I’m not her, and I’m not her past. I didn’t need to hear how she was once restricted because my grandpa said no. I didn’t need her to validate her actions by telling me she did the same thing to me because it was for my own good.

I ended up falling asleep. That’s what I always do when things get too tough—when it all becomes too overwhelming. I sleep to escape it, even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m tired of everything. Tired of trying to keep up. Tired of people who can’t understand, tired of not being heard. I don’t understand why life has to be this hard. Why do I have to fight just to feel like I matter? Why does everything feel like a constant uphill battle? And when I look at all the pain, all the pressure, I don’t even think I’ll ever get that “sweet ending” everyone talks about. Maybe I’m not meant to. Maybe I’m just supposed to keep going, keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. But right now, I don’t even know how to keep pretending.

November 14, 2024