Do you see me? Or just a projection?

Yes, it's me. Do you know who I am? Do you know what I'm capable of? What I've overcome? If you really saw me as I am, just maybe you'd be proud of me.

I remember my childhood, though not in the way that you might. I remember all the yelling and fighting. I remember spending the nights hiding away just to get away from all the commotion. Just hoping that you wouldn't notice me.

I remember back in high school when nothing felt good enough. Every A was shrugged off, every failure left untended. My life became a void and you never even noticed. Trying so hard to please you while never getting the approval I so desperately craved.

I know you've rarely approved of the decisions I've made. Remember back in college, when I took that year off? I did it to try to care for myself. I was making the best decision for my well-being that I could. Yet you chalked it up as another failure. A sign that I could never be all you wanted. I'm not a projection of the life you wish you lived. I'm just me, trying to live my life as best I can.

Remember years later when I told you my diagnosis? I do. I remember your desperate attempt to change the subject. You did not want to believe I was sick so you pretended I wasn't. It got locked away in an overflowing chest of unwanted discussions. All I wanted was for you to finally listen. I thought you were ready. I was sorely disappointed.

Our relationship has never been the same since that day. That was when I finally realized you'll never see me for who I am. You only see me as a projection of yourself. A projection of the life you never lived. I finally began to understand that I will never be able to truly be myself with you.

There's so much I want to tell you. No matter how old, everyone wants to be able to go to their parents when life isn't right. Yes, I still have nights where I want to burst into your room to tell you all about the monsters under my bed. I will never be able to do that again. For I know now that you'll just tell me they that the monstors don't exist. You will never be ready for that kind of honest relationship.

I'm hoping I'm wrong. I hope someday you will finally be ready to see me as I am. Maybe some day I will be able to start telling you of the monsters under the bed again. But I see no signs of that changing. So for now, I'll just keep daydreaming.