I Am Not Who They Think I Am
My parents.
Through the course of my life they have accused me of many things. They have accused me of everything from being a drug dealer to being the anti christ himself. All of these things are untrue. My dad and stepmom have never been able to see me clearly; and I have given up hope that they ever will. But it all just seems so sad.
At this point in time, my parents believe me to be a drug addict. I am not. But nothing I say or do can convince them otherwise. I tried - I gave up. When I was still living with them, they often subjected me to drug test. I knew they didn't trust me. Somehow they convinced themselves that I am this strung-out junkie that will rob them given half a chance. Just more proof that they don't know me at all. Why they insist on jumping to such ludicrous conclusions is beyond me.
Yes, I am a recreational drug user; but I am not an addict. I am not a junkie. I am not who they think I am.
I have reached an age where their opinion on my life means little to nothing to me. But I do feel sorry for them. They are parents... They worry. They think I'm an addict and it kills them - keeps my father awake at night. But until they open their eyes to the truth, there is nothing I can do for them. They will keep on hurting. They will keep on torturing themselves with their assumptions on my life, instead of listening to facts. And they will continue believing that I am someone I am not.
Through the course of my life they have accused me of many things. They have accused me of everything from being a drug dealer to being the anti christ himself. All of these things are untrue. My dad and stepmom have never been able to see me clearly; and I have given up hope that they ever will. But it all just seems so sad.
At this point in time, my parents believe me to be a drug addict. I am not. But nothing I say or do can convince them otherwise. I tried - I gave up. When I was still living with them, they often subjected me to drug test. I knew they didn't trust me. Somehow they convinced themselves that I am this strung-out junkie that will rob them given half a chance. Just more proof that they don't know me at all. Why they insist on jumping to such ludicrous conclusions is beyond me.
Yes, I am a recreational drug user; but I am not an addict. I am not a junkie. I am not who they think I am.
I have reached an age where their opinion on my life means little to nothing to me. But I do feel sorry for them. They are parents... They worry. They think I'm an addict and it kills them - keeps my father awake at night. But until they open their eyes to the truth, there is nothing I can do for them. They will keep on hurting. They will keep on torturing themselves with their assumptions on my life, instead of listening to facts. And they will continue believing that I am someone I am not.
31-35, F
