🌜Moon Child🌛

a voice that is inaudible. Silence. I have trouble speaking because it feels like my voice is restrained in my throat. After a lengthy lecture, the long drive home is always filled with anxiety. I merely sit in silence as the car curves into the driveway while trembling from the letdown I’m expecting.

I enter my room through the garage door and collapse into my bed from exhaustion. My thoughts are racing as I recall everything that transpired that day. I’m worn out. My heart feels empty when my mind feels full. Every time I make a mistake, my mother gives me the same copy-and-paste lecture that goes something like this:

“You could have performed better. You never consider others. You must develop respect for other people and their compassion for you.

The never-ending accumulation of weighty obligations.

It drains you. Trying to live up to my family’s cultural expectations all the time is exhausting. Trying to live up to expectations can be exhausting. There is no way out; the path to break free from the ongoing circle of regret and misery is infinite, like a maze. My feeble attempt to express my opinion is met with silence forever. Unheard voice, comparable to a bird with clipped wings.