Diary of a broken

I finally started to realise

I was used to doing just as I was told. When I was little I used to go outside and play with my friends, climbing posts and trees but as I grew up my mother told me to grow up and stop. I used to paint and color in the pictures she used to give to me. She liked my pictures and I liked her smile. Then as I grew she told me it was childish to want to draw. So I started wearing nice clothes that pleased her. I became polite like she taught me to. I ate things she approved of. I tried my best at school. Whenever I got lower than an A I was shouted at. I started to do all the chores around the house. All my friends were chosen by my parents, people who were well educated. I started to bury my head in books because my mum told me to achieve great things in life, and to do that one must read. I tried to become her dream child but she never appreciated my efforts or just for a moment stopped to notice how HARD I was trying. She never stopped comparing me to all the other kids in the society, why can't she see that I am who I am?

I hadn't selected a path in life it all got chosen for me through my parents. When the whole world seemed to be enjoying with their families, I was told to speak less. In all these years of my life I have always wondered 'what would it be like to have freedom?' To actually chose what I want to do for once. To make a decision for myself. Never have I ever been asked by my parents What do YOU want or what do YOU like.

Now as I began to get older and understand things a bit more, I realized. While trying to be 'Perfect' I lost myself. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know what I wanted. But worst of all I hated myself. I fell into this great depression. I got stuck getting worse by the day. to the point where I became suicidal. I felt like a burden, like I couldn't please anyone. I couldn't be the child my parents wanted I don't know who I am why should I be here?

But I could never take my life, I was a coward. As every time I was about to these 2 images pop up one, of my best friend the other of my perfect family. My kids fighting, my husband encouraging them on, me shouting at them. But one day I know that these images will not be enough to keep me alive.

I wonder if my parents knew all this? If they enjoyed me suffering in pain. All I wanted was some freedom. Freedom means going against the world even if the whole world considered you wrong, because you believe in yourself and the fact that your true. Freedom meant being true to myself which I had never been.

So that's the first part of the book complete.  Leave comments please

 (this is a part true story) Xxx