stephanie

When I was twelve my father loved me. I wish I was twelve forever.

I honestly had no idea what changed but as I grew older the voice in my head became crystal clear. My father is not a good person. He is not a good husband nor a good nurturer.

There was a time when me and my father sat outside our house. We stared at the stars, sharing the peace of the wind. Then suddenly I had the guts to say, "I don't think you're a good person.". At that moment, I did not care how hurt that must've made him feel. In my mind he deserves it. Even if he provided food on my plate, shelter to feel safe, and a life full of all the things I should be thankful for, I could still never forgive him for sucking out all the love in my heart.

"I know. But you are." He whispered after hearing the words I tried so hard not to utter.

I am not a good person. I'm too much like him to be one. After the age of twelve, everyone aside from me realized I do not only look like my father but I act like him too. I don't know what I did wrong but I got a curse I could never alter. Even if my father dies and his body rots, an angry man in the house still lives. I will still live.

My father probably had it worse when he was little. He carried the grief of his father and passed it on to me. But I don't know if I should be okay carrying a cycle I never wanted to be a part of.

While sitting outside the house, sharing the stars with the one who imprisoned me to all I could've been, I answered, "I don't think I am. I mirror you too much to be good."

Mom, unlike you, I do not regret a single thing.

“Mom, are you there? I need you.”

I've been calling my mother ever since I learned how to shed tears. My throat is all scratched and dry and yet I never heard her answer.

I wish my mother were not my mother. She cusses me out and regrets later on. She congratulated me with a smile when I got my first medal during middle school but screamed at me out of disappointment when I didn't pass the entrance exam at the college of her dreams. I believe I was merely living for my mother to foresee what she could've been through me. If she hadn't chosen the path she crossed now, if she hadn't chosen to be tangled with my father's rusted string, her life could've been different.

“Mom, please sing me to sleep again.”

I begged my mother to be a mother once more. To show me the things I missed. I need her to prepare my lunch box again, I need her to braid my hair and make me feel like the daintiest girl at school. I need her pats and embrace every time I have a fever. I need my mother to say she loves me once again. I need the regret to leave out of her eyes. I need the world to go back to when nothing bad has happened to us yet.

“Mom, change me. I tried to stop it but I can't.”

I tried to scream as loud as I could in my head. Nothing works. Fate is sealed. Me and my mother are born to become wretched mirrors of each other. She handed me her scars and will live with them forever. I will continue to pay for all her sins and will be unhappy just like her.

Still, at the end of the day, all I wish is for her to be glad she passed her blood to a little girl who doesn't regret being her daughter.

For the daughter I'll never have. In this lifetime, you'll never exist. I believe you'll be safer in my heart, free from all the sentiments my mother passed on to me. Daughter, it would be best if you didn't live a life filled with heartache and regrets. I do not wish for a life to be birthed out of me, torturing it with my inherited agony.

But in another lifetime, you'll wash all the flaws my youth has bestowed. You'll be heaven-sent. Your gleaming smile will clear all my past, making me feel like I've been reborn the day you arrived. Just like my mother used to do, I'll tuck you to bed and whisper words filled with my love. I'll watch you to sleep and thank God you became a part of me. I'll keep you warm and I'll keep you fed. Every word I say to you is meant. I'll read you fairytales the younger me never heard. I've always been full of anger and temper, but my daughter deserves a mother who bears. In times you'll cry, I'll be there. I'll cook you your favorite meal and give you a big embrace. I'll braid your hair and walk with you to school. I will be present at every program, recording all my memories of you. I'll drink with you when you lose a job interview, and cry with you when you lose your heart.

The day will come when you will be aware of all there is to life. But to the daughter I'll never have, I'll tell you, the ups and downs, the love and hurt, they can make you burst. But through it all, I'll remind you that you're free to return to the one who gave you birth.

In another lifetime you'll see the world—in blues and every hue. You'll get mad at life but I will teach you that it makes us learn.

In a different universe, I will raise a daughter, who I will love all through and through.