December 31, 20—

Dear Mama Lerma,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that you have to lose another member of your family again.

I'm sorry that you have to lose me too, like you lost Papa. . . but on the worst possible way.

I'm sorry that I couldn't live in this world any longer.

I'm sorry that I couldn't give you the life I promised you.

And I am sorry that I couldn't be with you until your hair turns gray and until you became a grandma.

I'm sorry.

I couldn't think of any words to tell you because I just felt so sorry that I am your daughter. Someone else will be a great daughter for you, Ma. I can't be the daughter that you wanted.

I can't take the course you always ask me to take. Becoming a professor is not my dream—it's yours. And you, constantly asking me to take Master's degree, is making me feel suffocated.

I don't hate you about it.

I hate myself that I couldn't do you a favour when you've done everything for me. . . for us. If only I am like Ate Helene, who willingly took the Nursing course when she was asked by Auntie to take it, then I will. But I am not Ate Helene.

You know what? I wished to be her, because she was brave, and I am not.

I know, Ma, that you taught us to be tough at all times, I am so sorry that I am not a strong woman.

I am sorry, 'Ma, that I always disappoint you. I'm so sorry for everything that I couldn't do for you. If only I had the guts, the patience, and the will to do that, I will. I will do everything to make you proud.

'Ma, I really had nothing to say to you.

You were the best mom I've ever known.

You gave me everything I asked you, and you would do everything for me. . . for us.

Yeah, I might have disliked you once in a while, but, everyone feels that way, right?

The only thing that I don't like about you is the way you blame me whenever I am hurt. 'Ma, I'm not angry about it, but I just want you to know that, in those situations, the least thing I need is your preach about my mistake. I want your care more than your hurtful, blaming words. I was hurt, Ma. And you, hurting me with your words, will never make me feel better.

I know, I wasn't the only one you blamed for the mistakes that happened in our lives, but that's really the most annoying thing about you. I laughed while I was writing about this part, but, frankly speaking, I hate it whenever you blame the victim in any circumstances.

And the second and last important thing that I disliked about you is how you think about other people's opinion. 'Ma, you're always thinking about what other people's going to say about you, your family, your kids, or the way we live.

'Ma, I hate it.

I hate to see you, stressing yourself by thinking about their fucking opinion that never helped us one bit. 'Ma, you were the one who fed us—fed this family. So think about yourself and remove that asshole chismosas in your mind. You don't deserve to be stressed by them, okay?

But you know what I hate about the most? I got that trait of yours.

I hate that I always think about other people's opinion. I hate myself that I almost live and die by thinking about what other people's opinion.

I hate that I always told you that you shouldn't think about other people's opinion about us when I couldn't do it for myself.

'Ma, did you know that I hate myself so much?

I don't feel like I belong to this family. Everything about you, papa, and ate were so normal. . . so natural. . . while I was here. . . not knowing what I want to do with my life. I never really knew myself, 'Ma. I don't want to know anymore.

'Ma, I am never really the person you thought I am. I have secrets, dirty laundries, and I am not the angelic and soft daughter you and papa called me. I concealed it with a personality that everyone would accept.

'Ma. . . I'm sorry.

Remember when I constantly lock myself inside my room, silently and secretly crying? I still remember your worried face that time. I hate myself for making you worry that much.

You asked me what's wrong. I never answered.

You asked me how I feel. I said I'm okay.

You asked me if I needed to go to hospital because it's been two weeks since I started locking myself inside my room. I said, no, I'm fine.

You never asked what happened, but I know. . . I know, 'Ma, that you know.

You know that I had a boyfriend, who cheated on me, for the first time. I don't know if you knew exactly like that, but I know that you have an idea that I am dating someone.

You never asked me who I'm talking to every night before I sleep, or where did I go when I came home late. You never asked me, but I saw it in your eyes that. . . you knew. You knew that I was in love that time.

So when I was so heart broken, you never left me. You were there beside me, never asking the questions that you knew that would trigger something in me.

Instead, you let me tell you everything.

But I never talked.

I never told you everything I am going through.

You just know that I am going through something, aside from heartbreaks, and you never asked anything.

But you know what? I think I won't tell you anything either even if you asked me; Because I want to get a hold of that personality everyone in this family thinks of me.

I was so pure, everyone said. I want to remain pure in your eyes.

I was so innocent, they said. I want to remain innocent in your eyes.

I was so almost perfect, they said. I want to remain almost perfect in your eyes.

So if you knew that I was dating someone, I'll never be pure and innocent again in your eyes, and in other people's eyes. They will make speculations that I already made this and that, when I never really did, when they find out that I dated someone.

And when you knew that I dated someone, I will never almost perfect again in everyone's eyes. Because I always lie before that I had to go to this for school, I need to go there for practice and etc., when the fact is, I am just going to my boyfriend's house. I can't be that person anymore when you knew that I dated someone behind my family's back.

I want to live the way you, and everyone around, saw me. I want to remain living that way, because seeing you like that, looking so happy of how great you thought I grew up, makes me so, so happy.

But now that you read this letter, you probably knew how fake of a person your youngest daughter can be. I am not like the person the way you saw me. I am not pure; I had lots of sins and insecurities. I failed, I am damaged. . . I am already wrecked, 'Ma. I just concealed it with the person you wanted me to see.

'Ma, I am not the innocent person you thought of me. I was never innocent. I made a very big mistake that caused me anxieties, and I was already exposed to the dark side of teens since I was a kid. I am not innocent, 'Ma. I pretended to be, because you wanted me to be.

'Ma, I really had no words for you unlike Ate Helene. I had lots to say to her because of the insecurities I felt for her.

But for you, 'Ma, all I can say is, you were so selfless.

What I hope for the following days and years of your life with Ate Helene's family is that. . . don't be selfless again. I know that being a mother, being selfless is a normal thing to do. But 'Ma, we're adults. Ate Helene already has someone she'll be with her forever. So please. . . don't be selfless again, okay?

And I know how much you grieved on Papa's death.

Don't grieve like that to me, ha?

Please, mourn for a short while, but forget the pain immediately, okay?

Don't be too hard on yourself. It's my choice. It's on me. Don't blame yourself because it was me who wasn't strong enough to hold on to this life longer. I can't do that anymore.

And 'Ma, I didn't steal your money. I just transfer that money to a new bank account. I needed to hurt your feelings, and I needed you to loathe me. You were angry, but I can see the way you understand me when I did that.

Argh! 'Ma, I hate how you understand me so easily when I did a very big mistake to you. Stealing the money you worked hard for is not a joke, so why are you so angry at the first night but so chill after that?

Why are you so chill after just a day of finding out that I stole your money?

I wanted you to hate me, but all I received from you was love and worry.

I hated myself that I hurt all your feelings when all you did to me was love me tenderly, and unconditionally. I thought that by making you hate me, killing myself will be easy.

But it became harder because you worry a lot than you used to worry about me.

And good news, 'Ma. You don't need to worry about me anymore.

I am headed to the path I chose, where I will find the serenity I never had.

It's funny that my name is Serene, but my mind was never that.

'Ma, I did it to find my peace. So don't hurt yourself by thinking too much about me, ha? Don't blame yourself, and don't think about me too much. I'm okay, and I'll be okay in a place where I belong after I did it.

'Ma, please promise me that you will only remember me with our happy moments, ha? With our happy memories, together with ate and papa.

'Ma. . . I love you.

Your youngest daughter doesn't like cheesy things, but, since it's the last, I will shamelessly say how much I love you.

I am sorry that I am never the ideal daughter that you wanted.

I am sorry that I made you see the person I never was in the first place.

I am sorry that you never really knew the real personality of your youngest daughter.

I am sorry that I am your daughter.

But Ma, I am so proud to be your daughter. It feels like I am the luckiest person because you are my Mom. I love you.

I love you endlessly. . . tenderly. . . and unconditionally.

I love you, and please, take a lot of care for yourself, okay?

I love you.

Sincerely,

Serene.