Sunday, 10 April 2011
09:57:31 PM (GMT)
I know you're never going to read this, and that's kind of the point, because if
you ever actually did I know I'd lose the computer, my phone, and my independence for
a month. Knowing that this is the one place that I can say all this stuff out loud
and you won't find it, I'm just going to say everything here. Now, without further
ado, please explain something to me:
My brother tries hard to get his marks around the 85 range. All he does at home
is sit on his ass and play XBox. He never practices karate, even though he should.
Whenever he gets a report card or passes his karate grading, he gets a lovely chorus
of "Good job," which of course is fine. He did do a good job. My best
friend, who is really more of a sister to me and a daughter to you, can barely manage
70's in most of her classes. She has pipe dreams of being an actress. Don't get me
wrong, she's good, but there are thousands of people who are far better than her.
Whenever she manages to pull of a 75 or maybe even an 80 if it's math (which she's
good at), or gets a lead in the school play, you tell her what a "good job"
she's done, which is fine. She did do a good job.
I get 90's in almost every class without even trying, and when I do try I have
these freaking insane marks that said best friend didn't even know were possible. I
work so hard, and you don't know how many times I've wished I could be playing video
games like my brother or going to parties like my best friend, but I'd feel guilty.
I'd feel as though I was shirking my responsibilites. I went to school every day
last week with bronchitis.
I'm a talented dancer and while I know I'm not the very best and I'll never be a
World Champion, I try my very hardest. I practice every single day for at least
forty minutes, not to mention my two-and-a-half hour, twice-weeklt classes. I have
given up so much for dance, and so have the people around me. I have given up every
weekend of my life since I was six years old. I have given up semi formal. I have
given up school trips and projects. Your sister is an absolute angel for letting me
stay at her house every Thursday night since you can't pick me up. I work out every
day, too - sit-ups, push-ups, running, wall sits, squats, lifting weights, skipping.
There's no way I'm letting that first place finish get away from me this year.
I'm fluent in French. I'm a gifted writer and I hope to publish a novel someday.
I'm knowledgeable and concerned about world issues and politics. I've never tasted
alcohol in my life. I'm not trying to brag, but I'm basically that kid that every
parent wishes they had.
So please, when I achieve something spectacular, I want to hear something a little
bit more than "good job."
Moreover, I would like you to be proud of the fact that I got an 82 in enriched
math and an 85 in enriched science, although the class averages were 78 and 82
respectively, and we had a way harder teacher this year. I would like a better
reaction than "Oh, well that's okay for enriched I guess... you'll do better next
year when there is no enriched." Umm, excuse me? 82 in enriched in AMAZING,
especially given that math and science are my two weakest subjects. I know you're
probably just trying to motivate me, but it's not working. You're just making me
feel bad about myself.
On that topic, I know I gained a little bit of weight last year- maybe five or ten
pounds. Sorry if I was on an injruy-induced break from dancing. I didn't need it
rubbed in my face all the time. Do you think the fact that you smile after you make
a comment and then say, "Honey, look at me. I'm no one to be talking. You have a
beautiful body" makes it better? I assure it does not. Anyway, that's not what
matters anymore because since Christmas I've lost all of that weight and probably
more. I'm more healthy and toned than I've ever been. I have abs and real arm
muscles, which I've never had before. I am so proud of myself, and I love the
fact that you don't talk to me about it anymore. However, I'm 5'6" and about 120 lbs
of solid muscle, and I'm not happy. I have a constant fear of getting fat, and I'm
sorry to say that a lot of that is your fault. I'm kind of worried now that I may be
developping an eating disorder.
Thanks for that one, mom.
In short, I know that you are doing your best. I know that when you don't
distinguish between Liam and Sammy's mediocre achievements and my phenomenal ones,
you are only trying to make things equal. You're trying to make them feel good. I
doubt you realize that, by doing that, you're making me feel awful, but you
are. I know that you think I have enoug confidence to deal with a genuinely joking
comment about my weight, especially when it's a lot less than most people's, and
because that's the way you tried to raise me, but unfortunately I don't.
I know you genuinely don't understand why I don't feel as though I'll ever be good
enough for you, but I've tried to explain and you won't listen. You're just like
those people at school- how could the beautiful, tiny, cultured, bilingual, genius
dancer who is going to have an amazing life possibly not be happy with herself?
Nobody ever sees when something is their fault.
Last edited: 10 April 2011
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