Happy birthday to me.


Bursting Thoughts

There is only one person that can calm my mother. Explain things to her. Tell her the thoughts of my father and sister without her getting mad at any of them. Show her, explain, calm her. Help them get what they want. But what happens when that one person, that sole person has things inside of her heart that are bursting to be told. Inner thoughts and wants, so desperate to be shown. But she cannot say it herself. That is not the way her mother works. Her mother must have things told to her by someone else. One cannot simply tell it on her own. But the other two. They cannot say anything, without mother getting upset. So what can the sole person do? Harbor her thoughts, her wants, her craving heart. Keep them locked away in a safe, deep inside of her soul. Nothing to be leaked, to be told. All are secrets. Never to be shared. Not to the person those secrets most want to be shared with.

A Low Self-Esteem of a Second Daughter

I have come to term with the fact that I am indeed ugly. Friends and family cannot be trusted. They will forever attempt to tell me no, I am not. They will say I have big eyes, nice hair, nice hands. They will point out things. More like, they will try. But it is not true. It never will be. The first daughter is the prettiest. The second one? Never. I am the second one. I am not pretty. Even mother thinks so. She never says it. But it has been alluded to before. I know so. I am not pretty. I am pathetically ugly. That is the end of that.