Runaway Kid


I wanted really bad to belong, and I understand that belongingness starts from the home. I am far from being a delinquent, but I am considered the black sheep of my family still. In every aspect, I just find myself very different from the rest of my family members so I felt rejected at a very young age. My classmates like me though – but there is no problem as serious as having childhood wounds that unconsciously influences your decisions and behavior as you grow up. My parents were cold and emotionally detached, while my sister has a life of her own where I clearly did not belong. Everyone was minding their own business, while I was left alone waiting for one of them to come to me and just hug me. Almost all conflicts and clashes in my home were about me or included me, so I really cursed God, or destiny, or whatever it is to blame when I was in the lowest of my spirits, feeling painfully hopeless. I was so angry at the fact that I was given a family who did not love me.

Growing up, I always sensed hostility from them. It was easy for them to label my sister as the good child, and me as the bad child. My parents continued feeding me and sending me to school so as to avoid being rumored as bad parents, when they clearly did not love me. “Being parents” is not enough to prove your love for your children, for every human being can reproduce but not everyone can feel love for their children. And every child deserves to feel love especially from their own parents. And I grew up discontented and sad because they did not give it to me. They saw me as rebellious and disrespectful, when I just wanted them to listen to what I say. I desperately wanted their attention, yes, but it seemed like voicing out my thoughts and ideas, whatever they are, automatically translates to rebellion when most of the time I didn’t even intend to offend them. They held on to the traditional idea of upbringing that children are nothing compared to their elders, so they do not have the right to even say anything that would seem to contradict their elders. I constantly got abused physically, mentally, and emotionally during my puberty years – and they did it because of fear. They were fearful parents.

My inner scale was confused and was constantly trying to find out whether I love or hate my family. I hated them for all those wounds that they’ve given to my soul, but I was supposed to love them because “God gave them to me”. But how are you supposed to love the people who won’t clearly accept you as you are? They were embarrassed of me despite my achievements in school, because they see me as a problem child. Sometimes when I’m alone, I talk to my inner child: “How could they afford to be embarrassed of having a child who is talented in singing, painting, dancing, and writing?” It wouldn’t benefit me to drown in my own misery so I reminded myself that I am a gift from God to whoever will accept me. I constantly reminded myself of my strengths, but I couldn’t get out of the black hole of my insecurity. “My family pushed me to be like this. I can’t lose in this battle.” So the moment my high school graduation came, I decided to study in a premiere university in the Philippines, no matter how far it was. I thought that I needed a break from family problems.

After two years, when I came back as a new me, and when people around me where looking up to me, they started being proud of their daughter. Whenever my beauty, or success, or any desirable trait of mine gets complimented, they always attribute it to themselves instead of my own blood and sweat without their help. Everywhere we go, people always notice me and I couldn’t fathom whether they’re proud or jealous of me. My mother especially. We have treated each other as enemies because we always fight. She doesn’t listen to me and just acts according to her emotions, not caring whether her actions are already damaging to me. Now she always wants to be with me and always holds my arm when we go out. I don’t know what’s the matter with her, when she always wanted to leave me when I was little. She didn’t like the responsibility of taking care of anything, so I resented her. Now that I was used to their coldness, they go near me. But they not just go near me, they depend on me for anything. Like they just raised me to be their savior or anything. But personally, I think that they did very well on taking care of themselves before, so why can’t they do it now? When everything seems bad, they curse me. But when everything seems fine, they cling on me. They make me want to spew out of my mouth every terrible thing that they’ve done to me when I was younger, and then run away from them.

My four-month vacation from school is nearly over, and I wanted so bad to ride on an airplane and claim my independence again. I can sense fear and insecurity when I go near them, so I can’t stand being inside the house with my parents. Honestly, I’m trying to endure it. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, but after those years of torture, they seem to be putting more weight on my shoulders now that eighteen, and just started becoming an adult. I can sense their inferiority complexes, I can sense the fear where all those bad traits come from. I want to get out of the house because they affect me so much. I want to just love them from afar. We’re not meant to be in one roof, because they make me uncomfortable. They can’t even feel thankful when I do the household chores for them; instead, they tell me that I’m useless. How can I stay in this kind of household? I feel like I did not really come from them – I am so different to even believe that. And that’s why I wanted so bad to run away. I just want to run away every time. 

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