Disappointed

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I am disappointed. In what exactly? I don’t know. All I know is that my life is a mess right now, from more than one perspective. Am I disappointed in myself, because I realized that I cant handle whatever life throws at me? Because I thought I was this big, tough person who turned out to be a con? I don’t know. Am I disappointed in my mom, because her emotions are too raw and overflowing? or because she keeps victimizing herself and thinking of the worst? or because she makes me want to hate my dad? Should I be disappointed because of any of these reasons, though? Doesn’t this mean that she needs help? Maybe my approaches were wrong and naive.

I tried to help, I really did. I thought I was this wise person, talking her out of her thoughts and giving her tips to resolve the conflicts she faces, but I guess that was an illusion of me, because after a ton of talks and a couple hundred of tries to cheer her up, nothing changed. So I became disappointed. Was I lacking something, or was she in a dark, dark place that blocked my voice with her never-ending thoughts and frightening expectations of a horrid future? Did she build a house so small it was knocking the breath out of her chest? Painted it black that it looked even smaller? Did she have matching curtains, or were there no windows to let some sunlight in? Was she in a long-lasting winter night? I can never find out.

I don’t hate my mom. Frankly, its quite the opposite. I guess I just hate her weakness and admittance to that. I hate her need to pressure herself and victimize it. I hate how she hurts us, even though am pretty sure she isn’t aware of that, but I hate it anyway, and am not sure if am ever going to accept it. Or if I should. A few months ago, I would be angry at myself, but now am just drained and tired. I can feel my head getting heavier and my eyes blurry. I became uninterested in almost everything. It makes me disappointed.

I guess I stopped liking me. I hate my body, the way my love handles pop out whenever I glance at myself in the mirror. I hate how my thighs rub against each other and my arms flab with the tinniest of motions. I hate how weak my muscles are and how unproportionate I look. I hate how I cant wear the clothes I like. I hate my hair and its texture, the shrinkage, dryness, frizziness, everything. I hate how I compare myself to people around me, and how I continue on doing that, even though I know it fills me with jealousy, sadness, and most of all, disappointment.

I am a hardworking person, I give myself that, but no matter how hard I study, I seem to mess up at one point. I changed my technique a couple of times, I went from flashcards to rereading lectures to writing notes, but my results were all the same. Average. They weren’t bad, but are they worth the effort? I excuse myself out of family gatherings and outings with friends to study. I don’t practice any sports or hobbies for the fear of lagging behind. I give up a lot of experiences and memories to sit on that damned desk and go over lectures and notes, and I gained nothing back. I wasn’t rewarded. I am disappointed.

All am left with is that empty place in my chest and I dont know what to do with it. I cant even cry. I am just…disappointed.

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