The rut does not seem to end. You are never out of my life. No matter how I do, how much I achieve, I will never be able to make you happy. I did what you asked me to, I studied hard and now I am at the best place in the country, and you are still not happy. You still ask to wear proper clothes and cut my hair and not talk to boys, you still want to control every breathe I take.
I don’t understand why we are not like others, why we are so different as a family, why you are so unreasonable and why out of all the millions of people in the world I had to end in a fancy house with the two of you.
The first time I cut, I cut deep and I saw all the blood and I felt at peace. They found me much later and then they called you and you didn’t understand why I took the blade and slashed it across my wrist and I didn’t understand why you were at my bedside crying.
The second time when I broke the windows I screamed, I screamed so loud the entire wing came to the room and they screamed too seeing me in blood and glass. They called you again and this time you cried harder and I still didn’t understand why you were there, why were you pretending to care?