There was a time in my life in which I felt like I knew everything. When I was young and naive to the clockwork of the world.

There were also times in which I felt like I knew absolutely nothing. When I began to learn that what I grew up learning was completely wrong.

But those times are fine, one makes me feel powerful, happy, the other provokes curiosity and adventure. And those are fine.

But there are times in which I feel like nothing. A void. Nothing interests me, I don’t feel like I’m worth anything, I don’t want to do anything. I have no motivation for things I love doing.

Sometimes I hate how emotionally sensitive I am. How easily tears can come rolling down my face, revealing how I feel to other. And yet, I feel like they do notice. I think it funny, how they can come and ask if their words are too harsh, if their words to too heavier and if so, they apologize for it. It’s nice to think that they believe that would help.

But it’s not something that a simple apology could fix and forgive.

I feel invalidated. That my reason for existing was invalidated. Whatever I’ve worked on, however hard I’ve worked on it. No matter how much it matters to me. It doesn’t matter to them. And that’s what matters in the end, I guess. The things I like and the things I like doing are wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing them. Despite whatever sugar they coat their words in, despite how they say they support me, in the end, I guess they still want me to be their certain ideal person.

I’m too childish, I live in a fantasy. Okay, I’ll look at the news, of politics and impending wars. They say I’m irresponsible. Sure, I’ll wake up by myself, make my bed, breakfast, wash dishes, wash clothes. My say I have no determination. They say so many things. So many tiny flaws that hurt so so much.

For hours, they tell me I’m wrong, they're right. Their way is always right. They’re always right. Even if I have logic and others backing my claim, even if I know they’re wrong. They’re right. And that’s how it’s always been and always will be.

And I exist to please. It hurts but it’s true. In the end, I don’t have a free will, I am a puppet to the will and whims of those around me. To make those around me proud. To make them happy and glad to me with me. They are my reason for living. And I try so hard to make them happy and proud, and sometimes they are. But just as quickly, I’m nothing again. Disappointment hurts like nothing else. I failed. I didn’t complete my task. And once again, I am nothing.

I am a stubborn person. I like to prove people wrong. I like to rebel and not follow orders. So I will keep going. I am childish, sure. I am irresponsible, okay. But I sure as hell don’t have ‘no determination’ because I know that I am stubborn enough to not give in. And I am determined to prove them wrong. I am determined to make them proud.

I am determined to keep on living.