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𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰

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My thoughts prompt me to return to this space.

My value at home is always equated to how many so called traditional, housewife-like tasks I can accomplish. Any other feats of mine don’t mean much. If I enjoy certain tasks, it’s not valued. I’m gaslit. It’s frustrating hearing this on a daily basis and when facing it to fight it, my efforts are not taken seriously. If I talk happily about something I enjoy, something like baking, it’s shut down as something useless and instead I’m questioned on why I cannot cook more traditional dishes. I am told I need to cook more. But this is said to my face, as though it has been forgotten that I have lived independently with little help from others in doing so. And even when I speak of that time, it’s shut down, stamped on, undervalued. It isn’t quite control, but judgments to restrain me, both consciously and subconsciously. My appearance, my weight, my skin condition is highlighted, with blatant lies thrown on me as accusations. I shouldn’t eat too many oily foods. I have said this out of my own judgment. Yet days later, my own comment is used as an attack against me. Something along the lines of “all these take outs cause your breakouts”. But “all these takeouts” are few, and the same as everyone else, since it’s a family thing. Yet somehow, it’s wrong for me to join in with that. And if I were to exclude myself, I’d be labelled as petty, stupid, dramatic, and so on. This is how it always was. I escaped it for a while. It’s small stuff. But big when it’s coming from within the house. It’s big if it’s consistent, almost daily. Do you not realise what you’re doing? The things I pursue are not taken seriously. No attention is given to them. You all prioritise other things. Things that don’t matter. The culture is dying. So e of those practices will mean nothing in the future. So why are you insisting? What do you achieve? Things can evolve in a different way. There’s nothing inherently wrong with me preferring to bake than cook. I still cook. And beyond the household chores of cooking and cleaning, which by the way in huge part drove me to literal madness approximately one year ago, something which I am still recovering from, I am struggling with other things that are important too. My mental health is in absolute shambles, I have deep fears and hesitances to even pursue some of these things further, and that affects my education as well as my life in general. It affects it all so incredibly and I always have to suffer with the consequences, alone. And I must suffer with it alone, for if you were to discover these failures, that would prove to be an even bigger disappointment. I must at least succeed in one thing. I cannot do the menial tasks, apparently, not to your liking at least, and I cannot even make something of myself, which disappoints you but most importantly myself. All of that, and more, sometimes makes me want to off myself.

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Close 1//4 

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It’s all a giant juggling act.

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“I’d rather look back and regret something I did when I was young and crazy, than look back and regret something I never had the courage to do, and realize it’s too late.”

— Cherrie Lynn

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Thinking about my own independence a lot these days. I’m thinking about my growth as a person and how I don’t have that. I’ve also been thinking about a particular issue that has been a lifelong oversight. Nobody has noticed except myself. And when I found courage to mention this to a friend of mine, it seemed to make a lot of sense to her.

I’ve been thinking about how I yearn to learn but I am learning nothing. There’s only so much learning you can do from lectures, youtube videos, internet sources, reading, and engaging in creative work. Learning should also be personal and experienced physically. Without the independence I need, I will never learn. Instead, I feel as though I am rotting away and that right now, I truly am a waste of space. It’s like everything I feared has come true. All the things I’ve written and vented about are true. I’m the living embodiment of all that I fear. And it’s easier for everyone I know if I stay this way. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAH FUCK YOU ALL.

I cannot explain how frustrated and restrained I feel. I’m tied to chains. Every, single, part of me. Whatever freedom I ever tasted was a fucking lie; an illusion. And I have no idea what to do about it. I’ve even been attempted at being emotionally blackmailed to KNOW that I apparently have a lot of freedom. But my peers…. People my age do more than I can do. And I hate comparing myself. I fucking hate thinking about others. I hate being like others. But now they’re doing everything I wanted to do. Why are they living the life I wanted to live? Why am I not living those lives? Why am I restrained from it? For years, FOR YEARS, I have criticised those around me for being ignorant motherfuckers. For not being well travelled, for not understanding other people, for being narrow minded. And trust me, they still are. But… maybe less so now. It’s all reversed. I’ve cursed myself. I cursed myself into being fat, useless, pathetic, lazy, a loser, worthless, ugly, stupid, dumb, braindead, trash, a slog, fucking everything, and then those bitches now have it all. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I miss writing here.

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by Ayran Oberto

This artist on Instagram

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jim lee