Open Letters That Matter

Dear Mom, I Am Sorry For Being a Failure

This post is a guest contribution. All the views expressed in this article are not from the owner of this website. Happy reading!

Little did you know that I was diagnosed with Depression in my early twenties. Every day, I would get up to fight suicidal thoughts for almost a decade of my life. Every night, I would cuddle up in my bed to fall asleep to a pillow soaked up in tears, begging an invisible God to have mercy upon me and allow the bed to swallow me up so I could just disappear. On multiple instances, I have held a blade to my wrist and a knife to my neck. And on every occasion, I would just get away with scars. I was too scared to follow through.

“You are weak. You are a loser. You can’t even kill yourself. You can’t even live a proper life. You are worthless to everyone. You are a huge failure for your family. You are a disgrace to your mother. You are a disappointment to your father. All it takes is a little push and yet, you can’t even get that right. The world would be such a better place without you living in it, you are taking up so much space. Such a huge disgrace to humanity you are.”

These are only some of the thoughts that buzzed through my head every day. Seems like a mentally retard person I am, huh? Yet, that was my real life. I was constantly moving inside a black hole, going round and round with no goals in life. I tried desperately to crawl my way out of this menace life of mine but it was too hard to just hold on, to stay alive and watch myself die another day.

And this was the good part.

The worst part was the fact that no one understood what it was like living the life I never wanted to live. In a populated world, I felt left out.

Yes, some people close to me did try to help me out but it was all in vain. The blood that was gushing through my veins was not willing to stay in peace. I always felt that I wasn’t good enough to deserve what everyone else seemed to have. I always felt Karma was making me pay the price for being a failure to my mom. I still feel the same.

So on this auspicious occasion of Mother’s Day, I would like to share an Open Letter to My Mom and acknowledge the fact that I am a Failure. I was a failure and I am still a failure.

Dear Mom,

I am sorry. I am sorry for being a pathetic person when all you wanted me to be was a good human being. I am sorry I am not the perfect kid you made me out to be. I know I have failed you on multiple occasions and I continue to do that till this day. I am sorry that I am not the kid you wanted me to be. I am sorry I could not follow the life you wanted me to follow because I was too weak in my studies and could never get what they were teaching to me.

I am sorry for being the reason behind your heart breaks. I admit that I hate seeing that look in your eyes. The look that tells me that your heart is broken. And the worst part, I feel even more weak knowing that I have broken it. It disgusts me to know I am the reason you feel so helpless. I know you feel like you have failed as a mother. Please let me assure you that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

As of now, all I know is heaviness in my heart and suffocation in my lungs. I feel like I am being pressed from all the corners and there is not enough air left for me to breathe. I feel like someone deliberately sucked away all the oxygen from my side of the earth, except that everyone else seems to be breathing just fine. I am trying to gasp for air but there is not enough left for me to take in. I am dying. Slowly and painfully. I can see my life withering away from me, bit by bit.

Mom, I believe this is the power karma holds over people. I know I have been a huge mess for you throughout life and I continue being your most chaotic kid. I know I am the ominous one. I am sorry for making you mad at me for no reason every time you look or talk to me. I am sorry for taking away your happy moments by being there and doing nothing. I am sorry for having a rotten attitude problem that only fuels my depression and make me more bodeful.

I am sorry for being a jerk at all times and giving you pain that I never wanted to give. Maybe I should have been more careful and should have kept it all hidden inside me. I am sorry you had to feel shame because of me every time you walked into a meeting about me. I am sorry I could not be more like my other siblings. I am sorry I could never live up to the standards of life you went out of your way to set for me, the standards that I always failed to reach no matter how hard I tried.

Remember when I went completely shut during my pre-teen years and you thought I was throwing tantrums? I wish I could tell you I was molested by the servants. I wish I could tell you I was raped multiple times by the guy you who was supposed to keep me safe from harm. I wish I could tell you how painful it was to be molested as a child and live to tell that story. I wish. But I don’t want you to know that because I know I would again be a huge disgrace to you and the whole family knowing that I lost my boyhood to an animal.

Yes, I was molested. Not once. Not twice. Multiple times. I wanted him to stop. I could not help but give in to his power. I was scared and it hurt a lot. But he went on with the quick push. I never liked it, it always hurt, but it was over in a few seconds. One of the reasons why I want to die. I know it will hurt but at least it will all be over in a few seconds. At least then it will be done. End of the chapters. End of the story. End of the worldly pain. I am already hurting day in and day out, let’s just get over with it.

I really want to get over with it. Finish it off once and for all. I am already tired of all the sufferings. I am tired of feeling bad all the time and I am tired watching people around me trying to make things better only to make them worse. And then I feel even worse because I make those who care for me feel bad, and that makes feel like a piece of worthless junk. It is just a never ending cycle of worthlessness.

But you know what, mother? No matter how incredibly peaceful that sounds, there is a small part inside me that knows it really is not that easy. It knows that it won’t be over. Maybe it would be over for me, but it would be over for you, dad or my siblings. You all would have to live with my choice for the rest of your lives. You have never admired me for my choice and I have already caused you a lot of pain with the choices that I have made in my life. Maybe that is what keeps me going. My choices in life have already been a cause of sorrow and anger in life for all, specially you, and I don’t want to cause any more in death. I would be a real piece of shit then, wouldn’t I?Then I’d really be a piece of shit, wouldn’t I?

Mom, maybe you don’t realize how much you are actually helping me at being alive. Your life is the reason I am still kicking and breathing. So how could that possibly make you a failure at motherhood? I don’t think so. In my book, I think you are the savior. When I hold that sharp knife to my wrist and gather up the courage to slice my life away, I have your image reflecting at the back of my mind. The thought of you being devastated knowing what I have done with my pitiful life leaves me with no choice but to put that knife down, and for one more day, pretend that I am alive.

I am sorry mom. I am sorry for being the burden of your choices. I am sorry for being the eater of your world. I am sorry for not listening to you when you were not happy about how I did my hair, or the way I dressed up, or how I never looked after my body. You always try to make sure that I remain the best of myself. But I am the one that fails you all the time.

You always try to tell me to look on the bright side of the things. To fake a smile. To do this and to do that and to look for that and to go there, and while none of this ever helps, I know your intentions are always pure. I know you are always trying to help. It does not seem to be working. I can sometimes see that when you are angry, you are angry at your helplessness. You lash out at me because I am the one reflecting your helplessness back at you. I am the one that comes between you and your futile attempts to make life better for me. I know you have tried, and tried, and tried. And tried. I know it must have been tiring for you, mom. You must be exhausted. I know I am.

Mom, I’m sorry for all of it, because it’s all my fault. I am sorry I could not be the successful kid you aspired me to be and I am sorry for failing at life so miserably. I am sorry for being the jerk that never cared for anyone’s feeling. I am sorry for allowing my worst part to take over my whole life.

I am sorry for never making it up to you. I know it will get better.

Your Cursed Child

About The Author:

I would rather not want to be known. I am scared people are going to bully me for being like this because I am a guy. I wish you all the best and want to let you know that you are doing a good job. I came to your blog from a post you wrote about a conversation you had with a prostitute and I thought I can share my honest letter with you.

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