Bruised but not broken

I was born with expectations.

With the world riding on my shoulders.

I was born with dreams so big that they filled

the oceans with water and

the skies with blue.

Born with the belief that I would grow up

to be something worth admiring, worth praising.

That I would grow up to be worth something.

I was raised in a loving home,

A home built with hope instead of bricks.

You’ll be a doctor, a lawyer, they said.

You’re going to make a difference,

And when you leave us you’ll make us proud.

The work, the stress, the sleepless nights,

High school, college, grad school,

The cost would be worth the reward.

That so called “reward”, the prestige and the money that everyone dreams of

Wasn’t supposed to be a dream for me.

It was supposed to be real.

Children are nothing more than blind servants.

They believe what they hear,

Because those who raise you aren’t supposed to deceive you.

But as I got older (as everyone does),

I realized that they were wrong.

They said they knew what I wanted,

But they couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

That’s not me.

So that’s exactly what I said.

But I’m only a teenager,

With those raging hormones and meltdowns you see in the movies,

So how could I know what I wanted?

I was wrong.

I was stupid.

My dream wasn’t theirs.

So I deserved to be bruised,

Degraded, shamed, all but disowned.

Back then, all I could hear is they wouldn’t be proud of me,

That I would be a failure,

A waste of their time.

All for nothing.

But now?

I don’t care.

They can try to shape me, change me, mold me into their perfect daughter.

But if they can’t accept me,

I don’t need them.

I may be hurt, but it only made me stronger.

I may be bruised,

But I’m not broken.