My newborn eyes open. I can’t wait for life. The fire inside me starts growing as I too start growing up. Six years old. I want to be a ballerina. NO NO NO. You must become a doctor no ballerina nonsense. Dreams crushed, waterfalls come out of my eyes. Ok, I won’t dream anymore. I will be number one. Anything other is unacceptable. Constantly studying and doing homework. Working and pushing to my best. Why Why Why. No matter how hard I try it’s never good enough for you. Why is it that I am the firstborn of immigrants? Why is it that my Asian grandparents expect this of me? Suffering is what they felt escaping Vietnam. Escaping and drowning is me trying to run from these expectations. Silence and darkness as the candle that is me gets blown out and now I am burnt out. There is nothing left, but I still have to trek across the vast deep tiding ocean with all my family’s expectations bound on my back.
cooked up by vision+voice
