Here I go.  I’m finally here, can you see me? You have to. You must. For this is all for you.

You never knew.

How much it hurts when I see you cry.

How much I cried into my pillow, on the lonely night hugging myself.

How much it affected me when you’d cry when I did something wrong, begging for me to do everything right, for my own good.

All you wanted was for me to be the best, right?

you, practice your piano skills. Have you done your Maths homework? Oh,  by the way, what did you score on the last Physics test? Hey, what about...

You never gave me time to do what I want, and when I forced myself to stay up late, just to find time to express myself, you ask, “Why didn’t you sleep? You must have been reading novels. Why don’t you read encyclopaedias instead?”

And every time, I would comply with your requests, your orders to be exact. I’ve always yearned to protest, to break free from the routine you’ve specifically laid out for me, but I can’t. I love you too much to see you disappointed.

Either you’ve never realized, or never cared, but I have been suffering. The dams inside me have broken years ago. And yet, I stayed strong. Never did I dare to tell anyone my dirty little secret. I’m afraid it will hurt you.

Because when I just came late to school, you cried beside me, claiming you’re depressed because you feel like you’ve failed to raise a child well.

You might not have known, but at the exact moment, my heart is shattered. I pretended to get annoyed and covered my face with some pillow, but no. My tears were fighting my will to keep you happy.

I imagined how devastating it must be if I told you the news. That I’ve been hurting myself.

I decided it would be a little too egoistic, so I stick with the plan. My life plan, made by you.

That day I left my dream, because you once said it was unworthy, and I wouldn’t let you down.

I did, though, have a new dream. To please you, make you proud.

You never realized, right? You demanded me to be like you: Perfect.

It had felt like I got paid off with your smile when I graduated from the faculty you choose. Along my school years, I had initially tried to enhance my passion in what I loved, but you found out and said it wasn’t an important skill. Oh well, you’ve seen and experienced a lot, you must know the best.

So I followed what you want, and yes, it gains me success. In fact, it got me here, to a life any other girl would trade with. But deep inside, I long for a free life.

Where no one expects anything from me.

Where everyone accept me for me, not what I do nor am capable of.

There’s only one of your rules and hopes that I broke: lying. But you never found out, so I guess it doesn’t count. I have grown so much as a teenager, being forced to think and act like a grown up, just like you said you did when you were young.

Everyone admired me and I felt happy when they praised you for raising such a ‘perfect’ daughter.

Can’t you see, mom? I’m not perfect. A mom is supposed to be the person who knows you the best. Inside and out. The one to catch you when you fall, to love you no matter what, and the one willing to give up her life for you.

I guess no one will be able to see anymore. I’ve become too much of an expert in this whole never-ending play. I hope you realize, though, that all the praises, admiring glances, and people looking up to me, it’s not for me. They are doing it towards you. The artist, the creator.

"All our dreams can come true – if we have the courage to pursue them."
-Walt Disney

It’s your favorite quote, right? It’s true, I’m the living proof of it. All dreams can come true—even if it’s not yours.

But if this is what it takes, to see you smile and become proud of me, I will continue living in this façade of perfection. I’ll pay the price for your happiness—my life.

“Give her a hand, the one and only—you!” then the applause of the crowd engulf me in uneasiness, which I quickly shook off.

“Thank you, everyone. First of all, I’d like to dedicate this to my one and only—the best mother anyone could have,” I smiled, not a real one.

The spotlight goes on my mom, and she stood up with joyful tears, bringing the crowd to a standing ovation, which made me smile wider—an even more false one.

As I went backstage, I locked myself up in the changing room, and for the first time since forever, a tear slip.

Just one.

And with that, all the emotions left inside me were gone, too.

____________

A/N:

Done. A bit sad :/ Tell me something, though, what occasion did you imagine her in?