Open letter to my mother

Amma,

You’ve always been with me. A constant presence in my life that I could not do without. The one who I follow around at every party where I see strangers I am related to but I don’t know. The person who gives me delicious food everyday, even though I may not fully appreciate the greens. You called me your sweetie, your smart princess. The one jewel you loved over all other.

But amma, when did I stop being that to you?

I used to love dressing up and showing you just so I could hear “pretty” from your lips. But now everything I wear is either slutty or old-fashioned. Suddenly my dresses make me look young, some make me look old and others make me look oddly thin. Some are too boyish, others are just ‘wrong’. Amma, why do I now have that one moment of fear before I show you the clothes I like? And even when I succumb to your wishes and wear something I hate to see myself in, why do you not call me “pretty” anymore?

Amma, it means more to me from you than from anyone else. 

On Family and Why I don’t want Children

WARNING- highly emotional rant ahead.

So, I’m going to state a really unpopular opinion of mine, simply because I’ve held it in for so long that its threatening to devour me from the inside.

I love my family. I truly do. But I am not a fan of how they treat me at times. Actually, I absolutely despise their actions at many occasions.

There are instances where their words leave me gasping for breath in-between crying sessions all alone in my room, and then there are happy times when we sit together watching reality shows and make jokes at the expense of the participants. My mother is amazing at juggling work and house work, my dad is the softest person I know and my brother has the most amazing memory. We have so many great family moments that I feel like a little bitch for ever thinking that I want to move away from them.

But I do. Oh I do.

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