Dear Me,

If I analyze it too closely, I know I will crack; hence as a defense mechanism I will hide behind my rose-tinted shades and refuse to accept the unacceptable—that is until now.

This only happens once a year and I think it only happens when I’m most vulnerable. I try not to think or talk about it—or in any case, avoid the topic as much as possible. Many times I’ve broached this subject with light-heartedness when friends asks, but I now know that was a front to disguise the truth, the pain, the betrayal, and love.

The saying goes that children are the production of parents—biologically yes, but the cognitive and behavioral part I’m not so inclined to agree.

My fear: becoming the replica of my parents.

I don’t ever want to turn out like my parents: self absorbed, dysfunctional, callous, vindictive, and conniving—I could go on and on until I produce a long list of their flaws, but who am I to judge right? I mean, yes they provided the necessities that I needed as a person, but on the grand parent scale, they didn’t really provide the emotional stability that all children crave for, and for this, I cant wholly forgive them.

As I watch them from afar I notice the hidden flaws in them that mirrors mine.
As much as I want to distance myself from my parents—as much as I tell myself that what they do wont impact me in anyway—I’m wrong because their actions defines who I am today. You see, I am very much the production of my parents, flawed inside as well as outside. Simply put: we’re destined to be dammed no matter what, the choices that shape our way of thinking shall and will test our ability to identify with ourselves and others.