Her Failures
Mama’s stories of conquering the world were so cool. I thought I could make mine better. Forgive me, I was only a child.
I heard all the stories.
I listened closely when mama taught me what life was.
My eyes widened. My imaginations ran wild.
I pictured an intriguing world. A world full of friends, my friends. A world where I mattered, and people loved me. It wasn’t like the ones in my dreams, I didn’t need a superpower to fit in. Here, people were willing to sit with me just because...
Mum grabbed my ears, “Are you off to la-la land again? Did you hear anything I’ve just said?”
I sighed, what a waste! “Yes mummy. I’ve heard you.” My ears stung from the pain. I closed my eyes. Wasn’t my fault she had no imaginations. Frankly, her words were dull and boring. It spoke of dangers I was never going to meet. It was college, what was so scary about that?
“The world is tough, my daughter. You think you can handle it, but you can’t. Don’t make mistakes. Don’t make mistakes you’d later come to regret.
Remember, not everyone has the same luck. Others could get away with a warning but you could be the example.
Focus on your studies, be the good girl you’ve always been.
A taste, you know you’re my last fruit? Make mummy proud, alright? Only good should come out of you, you are God’s child!”
Wrong mum, I haven’t always been good. I’m not the virgin you think me to be. My escapades have traveled far and wide.
Poor mother, I’m not “your taste” at all. Not anymore. If only you knew all the mischief I had already gone and done, perhaps you wouldn’t have sent me to college too early.
College wasn’t a breeze like they always said it would be. I didn’t do any studying. I should have, because I was always so good at it. Imagine if I had focused on my books. Where I’d have been. What I’d have known. No, college was no breeze. It was hard. Rock hard.
It was no fun either, just filled with awkward moments of me trying to fit in with the wrong crowd and always making a fool out of myself.
Now I’m stuck with these memories I hate. This regret.
Why was I stubborn? Who were those girls I was trying to impress? Couldn’t I see? They didn’t give a damn about me.
Why did I get into underaged drinking and partying? Waking up in beds that weren’t mine, with men old enough to grandparent me. Couldn’t they tell? I was only a child.
Now I’m stuck in-between blames. Hating myself or society? I can’t hate the world…? No. I can’t hate the world.
It was I who wanted to grow up fast.
It was I who changed my age. I was robust and a little devious, it wasn’t hard to pull. When I was 16, I passed for 20. The miracle of femininity.
But I can’t blame the world.
I can’t blame anybody. It was I who ruined myself.
I’ve hated me for far too long.
I don’t own any mirrors or pictures of myself.
People say I should give myself a little forgiveness, but how can I? They don’t know. They don’t know my past. My greatest shame.
I try to forget, to move past it. I keep running in circles.
I became exactly what mama warned me about. I became the girl who only learnt from failures. From her failures.
Mama’s stories of conquering the world were so cool. I thought I could make mine better. Forgive me, I was only a child.
