Mother’s Daughter
I have made a promise to myself that I will not be like my aunt. Wasted away good years to live in fear. Dimming her light just because she was afraid of people, afraid of them hurting her and she will not be strong enough to back on her feet again. Yet, I have spent the half of my awaiting fifties to hide under the shade of my own shadow.
I could blame myself for not keeping the promise I made, but I have always been my mother’s daughter. She told me to be aware of guys, do not trust their words easily. But she never specified, so I keep my distance to every guy that could be my future.
Because I have never been a rebel, never know what kind of guy I could keep in my life. The only man that I knew, left, and became a stranger I only know by name. Perhaps, part of me blamed my mother for being too protective of me and herself. Part of me blamed her for everything I could not become. Part of me blamed her for the iron grip she holds on both of my wrists. Part of me blamed her for her own failure, because there might be a 50 percent chance I will fail too.
But, no matter how many times I have blamed her for everything, I could never hate her because her wounds are still fragile yet she must put up a brave face just to survive in this cutout world.
Women who failed in love do not sit at the big table anymore. They sit in the corner, listening to the ones who thrived. Like some losers who will never have a chance to sing during karaoke night.
He was one of her dreams, but it crumbled like a sandcastle once the wave came paving in.
He was her home, but now she left with nothing but a broken-heart. Not a penny. Not a dime.
There was once an invisible string tying her to him, now she is the one holding the scissors cutting every possible partner in her daughter’s life.
How could she live with herself knowing her dream was crumbling down?
Maybe that is why, some mothers tend to live their dreams through their children.
Maybe that is why, her hands dragging down my feet to feel her misery, her loneliness, her failure over and over again.
Like a time loop with no loose ends and exit.
I don’t know how I could free from this cage, but I wish in my next life I could be a father’s daughter instead.
Because in this lifetime, I will sit with my mother on my side until she finally realized I need to live my life too.
