Unbearable fridge

Disappointment—a word that repeats itself over and over in my mind. The feeling of unfulfillment, not reaching hopes and expectations, feeling my heartbeat running a marathon, finishing and almost ripping my heart out through the finish line. That feeling happened whenever I felt like I didn’t do my best. I always strived to do my best.

Ever since I can remember I always strived to show and do my very best for my mother and the people I love, showing only my strength. Being the only girl and growing up around two older brothers was hard. I felt like a total disappointment comparing myself to my brothers. All I could see was their success compared with my failure. Always coming home to that fridge was hard. “Why?” you might ask. Because of walking in every single day of my life and staring at my fridge filled with awards and certificates, honor rolls and much more. All of the papers eating up the fridge as a whole. Every single space filled with pieces of paper all under my brothers’ names, and none with mine. That fridge was my archnemesis. The fridge telling me, “You suck.” The words pushing me down to the ground, with the fist made of steel. My brothers were born with special super powers.

I always asked myself out loud, “Why wasn’t I born with these so-called powers of smartness like them?”

I was never the Superman or Batman. I was the sidekick—the person on the side who does whatever they can do. The sidekick—the one who helps, but not as much. Don’t get me started on family reunions. It was always the question of, “How are you doing in school?” That question was the question I wished was never asked. The question always asked by every single family member. My response—sure, you’re guessing—was always, “Fine.” But was I really fine, or was it always the response in the back of my head because the same questions were being asked to my brothers, and they would answer, “Great! I have really been doing good at…”

In my head, I would always be saying, yup, and with an annoyed voice, I knew it. Questions like that were always a punch in the head for me. It was a wake up call to me saying smell the fresh flowers called reality.

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