By Tristan Val Leonida
A dark night of October, everything was peaceful except for the television in front of me. My eyes were tired of a whole day Channel hopping and my glasses are not with me. It was Saturday, the only day, which I am free from the monotonous sound of 60 teachers calling my name for responsibilities. The only day that keeps me normal, the time, which saves me from books and lessons. And now, slowly vanished.
A typing job started everything. A “please” from my sister’s mouth that early morning right after I got out of bed and wipe some dirt in my eyes keeps the story to begin. I doubtly think if I can do it but my mom is watching so, I just keep my mouth shut just to avoid a long conversation and lead to emotional quarrel.
I am always a victim of emotional abuse; I never felt this pain inside of me until I reached high school. I had been a consistent honor student and luckily the top of the class for the past two years. I always report my achievements and I was given some treats such as a snack or a personal choice of menu but that doesn’t last long. After an hour, a little clumsiness is big issue to me. They talk like I am a little child. I was not allowed to turn my lips out or to defend my side. I am always a loser. They speak unconditionally, they never think about what you feel, they just do it. I wonder sometimes if I am a really worth for them. Are my achievements too little? Am I too stupid? Too ridiculous? They don’t know that every conversation we made, I run to the room and weep to release my anger to myself and for being such a moron. I am always pleasant infront of everybody, the singer, dancer, actor, bright, and responsible student of the school but deep inside I am worthless because my family doesn’t appreciate that. An hour of appreciation is enough for my 10-month study. I don’t know why I am still pushing myself on books and Internet research when all my hardwork is only worth for an hour of greatness; maybe I am just trying to impress other people or I am a naturally born idiot to live for someone else’s like. The only thing that enters my mind everytime I get a test is to make my parents proud of me, to become my brother, and to have a degree in some famous university like my sister. I never lived my own way. I feel hopeless when they keep me away from doing something and after a while, they keep saying that I don’t have any knowledge about life. I feel useless. All issues about me are always a big deal. My study is an issue. Girlfriend is another issue; Too many issues in my life. The only witness about my life is this typing machine.
After 30 minutes, just after my sister left the house, I began to sit infront of the television trying to relax myself and to feel the freedom from school activities. Mom is sewing on the sofa next to me. I am stress-free. At 8:30, Mom left the house for work. I started to listen to RnB music and decided to have a haircut. I got out of the house at 9:00 and quickly have a haircut from a barbershop. I passed in the school for I have a meeting with the school paper adviser. At exactly 10:30, I got home. I switched the TV on and watched some movies. I had my lunch at noon, switched the computer, and began to research about my assignment for the school publication. I saw nothing there so, I turned it off and fly to my aunt’s house. After a few minutes, I directly go to the public plaza and talk with the cheerleaders. The girl I court was there so, we decided to go home together and we did. I reached home at exactly 3:30 and I returned to my Saturday job, relaxing. My sister got home early and we had our dinner at 6:00. She did asked me about the typing job, I started doing it after I came home from the plaza but unfortunately, I only finished the introduction page. My mom started to growl and talk like I am a poor employee begging for a job. I was never hurt that much before. I just wonder how a typing job could make her that angry. It was so painful in my part that a little could abuse my heart and mind. I keep asking myself why in the world did those things happen to me. What’s wrong with me? That was the time I think of dying, but if die, no one would speak for me. I don’t want to think about emotional abuse but I felt that kind of feeling. We always criticize people about their lives but we never observe the kind of life we live. We keep giving examples of great people but we never thought of trying to make a difference. Our family lives in the past, the forgotten. The treatment between parents and children are not equal in the sense that, we can’t complain about something and we cannot defend ourselves in arguments. I am a very open-minded person and I want a revision but how can I start when the people around me is contended of the things happening. Tears were drawn from my eyes when she slapped me with her cross stitch, tears of sadness and disappointment knowing that I was never worth. My brother, my sister are the swans, I am the ugly duckling that would never be a swan…FOREVER.
It is too painful to live being good to people when you are actually not in your family, much painful to see other admiring you when even your parents leave you alone. It is very painful to smile on stage and cry in the room. It is too painful to achieve the greatest honor and go home worthless in the family…that’s how I feel and no one would ever question that.
About the Author: Tristan Val, at 16, is a multimedia person. He won 2nd place in the provincial Popsong Singing Contest, 3rd place in a national extemporaneous speaking competition, a congressional-level folkdance participant, a regional science quiz runner-up, a regional press conference participant, and a campus journalism awardee. A versatile student in an early age.
Source: www.isnare.com
