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You,

Father And Mother I Love You.

Source of happiness and courage.

Anchor of strength.

Wind beneath my wings.

Love.

I asked a lot of people of different ages about the meaning of family for them and those were their answers. Truth to tell, mine wasn't the same as theirs. To me, family is being alone and lonely. Growing up, I only had a gold digger and greedy nanny. My parents were always absent in our house. Their existence became a visitor of the house they built.

Parents. My parents...

When I was young, I needed to reach the high standards my parents had set. I ought to push myself and be someone like them. My parents never wanted disappointment, only triumph. They have instilled in my mind that they do not have a son who is weak and loser. Even if I'm tired and don't like the path they created for me, I still obeyed them because I love them. I love them so much. Since then I am their puppet and they are my master. I am a blank sheet of paper and their mind are the colors and their hands are the artist. They are the artist and my life is their canvas. I am a mute who isn't able to tell them what I want to. I let them do what they want me to do because back then I thought that it is the only way to caught their attention and love. But, I was wrong.

For them, Love is money and work. Love is success in their field. For them, Love doesn't involve a son. For them, Love couldn't be found in family. 

I have never ever felt the love of a mother and a father. I was the one who wiped my tears whenever I got scratches, bruises, fears and disappointments. I had to set an alarm every night to wake me up the next day because I don't have a mother to do so. I needed to learn how to cook because I don't have someone who will cook a food for me.

The house they built was what they have envisioned it to be. It is grand and full of expensive accessories, apparently lifeless.

I was five years old when I had to stand on my own because they're always in the hospital treating other people in need. Ironically, they are doctors but they couldn't take care of their only son.

I was ten when I realized that maybe I wasn't enough, what I was doing wasn't enough for them to love me.

I was thirteen when I started to like a boy. I'm cool with it because no one told me that this kind of love is forbidden by many.

I was fifteen when I first had a failing grade. It was also the first time that my mom called my on the phone. On the phone, she kept of telling me that I am a disgrace in the family. She doesn't want to have a loser child. She doesn't need a child who fails in class. I should be disrupted, disappointed and angry about it but I didn't. For that phone call proved me that she still cares for me.

I was eighteen years old when they knew about my sexuality. I was in senior high school, I came out to my parents because it's killing me inside. I couldn't hide it anymore. They were against of me being attracted and loving someone with the same sex as mine. I wasn't shocked honestly because I already sensed it. But what surprised was they abhorred me. They made me feel that being a gay is a disease. They started to treat me like a nobody since that day. I couldn't blame them, who would want to have a son like me. With that, I had to improve and prove myself to them. I want them to realize that gender isn't a hindrance to become successful. I can become a doctor— like they're expecting and want me to be — regardless of my sexuality. I want them to realize that respect shouldn't be based on genders. Love shouldn't be given to people based on what the norms say. I want my parents back, and so I pushed myself to become the best at everything. But as I was shaping myself to become someone whom they want, I lost myself.

Love,
Gun