family means very little to me

learning to accept that everyone in my family is absolutely mental; a poem

I'm getting coliflower from the oven. 
putting some on my plate and some directly on my mouth,
and now and then sprinkle some salt and paprika.
I hear my aunt is at home. 
I forgot today is a national holiday,
and I'm very scared that she doesn't have work to distract her. 
I go to her bedroom. 
she's in bed
it's 3pm 
I pretend it's normal to have the blinds down at 3pm.
she asks me how I am. 
I don't go into details because I can't. 
she's too bored not to hyperanalise everything. 
but I soon realise I should ask her the same. 
how are you?
we need to talk, 
she says. 

and now the taste of coliflower is bitter 
and I know I'm barely going to digest it. 
because I'm filled with fear, 
what was it this time?
what did I do to fuel her feelings of inadecuacy? 
to bring her existential crisis to the surface?

the thing is,
some families play cards, 
they rent a house for a week in some town and cook pasta salad, 
they help their kids with their maths homework, 
and they watch movies together and they get fat together because chocolate is too good. 
but in this one, there's just endless
"we need to talk"
one after the other. 
in between afternoons in bed and arguments with no purpose other than to keep the pain away. 

I wonder what it's going to be this time. 
lately she's been getting meaning from punishing and disciplining me. 
she realised they never actually raised me. 
they did make me salads with tomatoes and onion and fish but they never taught me discipline or anything like that. 
the fights were all random, no matter wether I did my homework or not. 
so now it's the perfect opportunity to do what they never did, 
punish me,
not randomly, 
but for every single thing I do. 
at least she has something to think about,
something to worry about, 
and someone to blame for her lack of purpose. 

she gets out of the bed with her pyjamas on,
and her face is so scary to me. 
it's a face that screams resentment, 
and that screams 
I don't have anything to live for. 

as I listen to what she has to say, 
I think that I honestly wish she could just love me. 
just love me. 
not love with sparkles of resentment and co-dependency. 

her happiness depends on me. 
on how perfect I am. 
and since perfection doesn't exist, 
she's unhappy. 
but it's not her weird thoughts and expectations that make her unhappy, 
or her avoidance to actually find what it is exactly that's missing in her life, 
it's just, 
me. 

she's almost crying now. and her desperation is pretty contagious. 
I went from feeling quite at peace to wanting to shout at her. 
I want to be there for her, I want to help her. 
But I can't help someone who's blaming their misery on me. and punishing me. 

she's stressed because I shouldn't have reacted to my mum breaking into my apartment and tidying my boyfriend's clothes and our condoms. 
she's angry because I ruined her day. with my energy. with my disappointment. with me feeling like I have no privacy, with them having no boundaries.
but I guess to her "being mature" means being a plant, 
not reacting at all, 
just accept, 
and if my mum comes to my apartment and reads my private journals again, 
it's okay, 
no point in feeling a knot in my stomach, 
like I'm about to vomit. 
no point in feeling hopeless, 
like there is nothing I can write just for myself. 

so here's a letter to my aunt, for causing her so much pain and misery:

I did it wrong. 
I work too much. 
I go to the gym too little. 
My music project is taking too long and it's silly and stupid that I even started it in the first place. 
I wear masculine clothes. 
I have hair on my armpets. 
I react to my crazy mother and I shouldn't because I'm the one who knows better. 
I react to her looking at my thighs and implying I should do more exercise, but I shouldn't because I am a robot without feelings and she's just tyring to help me. 
I studied the wrong degree in the wrong country. 
I worked part time in college and that's embarrassing because you want to tell people that you provided. 
I fell in love with the wrong person because they should speak Spanish and want to live in Spain.
I had sex too early, it doesn't matter at all that every adult has sex. I am not an adult, I am still a child. 
I shouldn't have said I liked Ireland. I should have said I hated it and that this town is much better so that you could have slept that night. 
I should have kept being friends with that girl from school, yeah, even if we grew apart, I definitely fucked it up and should have kept a friendship even if there's no real connection anymore, even when I've found true connection somewhere else. 
I should have shut up about my graduation. I shouldn't have said I did it for you. I should have been excited like you wanted me to be. I should have said it was the best moment in my life.
I should wear more makeup, care more about my appearance. skin care is really not cutting it. 
I should make more money, immediately. fuck enterpeneurship, fuck developing and figuring it out. I should just study something I absolutely hate and that makes me money so I can stay in this city I hate with you and be available any time you need me when you want to numb the feeling that you have absolutely fucked your life up.
I should put cream on my body so my skin doesn't get wrinkly. and I shouldn't ask you to stop talking about my legs. It's fair that you comment on my body, and I am ungrateful for not being empathetic to how much you suffer about it.
I shouldn't work at 3pm. 3pm is time for lunch. lunch with the lovely family. 3pm is time for lettuce and onion and canned sardines. I should be grateful that at least I have food, you're right, and of course you can't go to the supermarket to get real food. I get that you're too stressed for that. 
I'm sorry that I like the colour black. I'm sorry that when I wear dresses I don't wear them with necklaces and bracelets. 
I'm sorry I raised my voice to defend myself. I should have kept quiet and have the capacity to understand that you don't mean any of it. everything you are saying comes from a place of pain and I should be compassionate about it. you're right. 
I picked the wrong place to live in. it was too small. and I shouldn't have shared it with my boyfriend because it sounds bad when you say it to people. they start asking questions, and it's just not a good look. I understand that you told them I was living with a girl called Sarah. 
I shouldn't have cried that day at new year's eve. I'm so sorry that I cried when my mum said I looked terrible in that jumpsuit. I didn't cry because of the jumpsuit, I cried out of jealousy that you got to have a good mother. But I should have been matured enough to just not listen to her because she's mentally ill. 
Sorry that I lost my spark. I really am. I'm sorry that now you have to live without the person I used to be. It hurts me a lot too but that doesn't really matter, what matters is how you feel about it, sorry that I've taken that away from you. 
Sorry that you had to go to court with my dad and mum. It wasn't fair on you. at the end of the day you're not my parent. I know that it wasn't very fun for me and I didn't pick any of it but what matters is that you were very stressed throughout the whole process and now don't want to hear a word of it, so I won't say anything.
I'm sorry that I am not how you imagined. sorry I couldn't fit your fantasy. I am quite cool and have a lot of perspective in life but it's not to your liking and for that, I feel bad. that you have to live with this tragedy, not having what you want, that I cause you so much suffering. 
I'm sorry that I don't have a normal nine to five and that you can't tell people how proud you are of me. 
I'm sorry that I have any thoughts at all. I know you think that my thoughts are just a result of trauma so sorry for expressing my feelings and opinions if that really stresses you out and keeps you awake at night. I'll try to keep more things to myself. 
Sorry for not saying enough. I have made up this thing that you judge me for what I tell you. In reality it's probably just an irrational fear. I also can tell you get pretty stressed when we talk, but you're right it's probably just my own projections. 

but yeah, 
we're a family,
and that's what matters. 
family comes first right?
it comes before my silly purpose, before my well-being and before my happiness. 

I am 23 and I feel so fucking boring and mature and self-aware.
sometimes I wish I could make mistakes and have things be okay. 
I wish I was enough
I wish it was okay to skip a week at the gym
or if I don't put cream on my body one day and my skin is not glowing 
or if I don't wear the right earrings. 

I wish I didn't have to pick
her happiness or my happiness.
she crying at night or me crying at night. 
her blinds down at 3pm or my blinds down at 3pm. 
but I think I'm done avoiding picking. 

I have felt guilt before. 
but why have I never felt guilt about giving up on myself?
I guess I wasn't raised that way. 
maybe it's generous to protect myself from harm. 
let them figure it out. 
because I'm not their therapist. 
or their punching bag. 
I'm just me, 
I'm a human being, 
who deserves to thrive,
not just "do well considering my upbringing",
just do well, 
and just be me, 
with no one questioning it or being mad about it. 
just me

hello, just here to say I actually love and appreciate the women in this photo, this was just for the cover of this post