Don't Tell my Mom I'm a Liar

"When will you come home, sweetie? I miss you." mom asked again. "I miss you, too, Mom. Most likely in December. I'm swamped at work; I'll finish this first so they don't call me while I'm there. I'll be home soon." I responded.

(I want to go home, Mom. I want to kiss you and hug you. I wish I could cry on your shoulder, but I can't. I don't want you to be worried. I don't want you to see me this way.)

"Turn on your video, I wanna see you." mom said. "Oh, my signal is now quite weak. Maybe later." I rep-lied.

(I don't want you to notice how bad my eyebags are. How pale I am as a consequence of my condition. How awful my pimple scars on my cheeks are as a result of stress and poor eating habits. I'll turn on my camera later after I apply some make-up to cover everything up so I appear healthy to you.)

"Are you eating well there? What did you have for breakfast? Your dad's insomnia has flared up again, and I remembered you having it as well. How's your sleep? " mom asked. "Uhm. I slept well, mom; in fact, I sleep 8 hours every weekdays and possibly 12 hours on weekends. Haha!" I rep-lied.

(I don't eat breakfast as much as I did to when I lived there. I just drank my coffee. Yes, I had that too. I'm constantly jolted awake around 3 a.m., and it's difficult for me to get right back to sleep; sometimes my eyelids are closed, but I'm up till 6 a.m. and get up to prepare to go to work.)

"Hi, Ate. We have utility bills to pay here at home; Dad's money will arrive next week, but I need to pay for the utility bills right now. Could you help me? I'll pay you back once Dad's paycheck arrives." my sister asked. "You don't have to pay me back cause I still have some money. Instead of paying me, get something for Mom."

(It's for my dress to attend a friend's wedding, although I guess I may still use my old dresses. Hehe.)

"Your aunts and uncles asked about you, I told them that you were fine. You have already paid nearly half of the entire cost of our ancestral home. They praised me on raising you and your sister properly. They're excited to meet you when you get home." Mom happily told me. "That's great. And my sister and I are blessed to have you as our mom. I'm happy to meet them again too." I answered.

(I'm having trouble paying the house. I'm constantly stressed because the agent calls me to follow up on my payment. Screw those relatives. I don't want to run across them again. They hurt you when we had nothing, but now that we have something, they approach us like angels? Funny.)

"KC, I'm calling you, why aren't you answering? Are you all right? You driving?" mom asked me. "Yes, mom, I'm just working hard so that I can have a long holiday in December; I'll make it up to you; I'll phone you when I get to my apartment," I rep-lied.

(I'm not fine, mom; I'm at my apartment now. I'll phone you after I've spent hours crying in the shower.)

"How's your mental health? You know you can always talk to me." mom asked me. "I'm alright, mom; I'm so busy that those demons can't get in. Don't worry. Be well for me." I rep-lied.

(I'm tired, Mom. I'm sick of living. I'm sick of being an adult. Tired of trying to impress everyone. I was fed up with my childhood traumas. It's hard to trust people. Carrying every burden on my own, and weary of pretending I'm always fine so you don't know how fragile and weak I am since you lived with it for years. No one has fought for you, so I must.)

What you don't know won't hurt you. At least in your eyes, your daughter is fine.