"You drew stars around my scars, but now I'm bleeding..."
Gaia Ashmore has lived under the radar of her strict mother all her life. Every aspect of her life - from her fashion sense to her career - is controlled by her mother. And even when Gaia mov...
"If you were a teacher, I would fail your class, take it over and over until you noticed me. If you were a waiting room, I would never see a doctor, I would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed." — Waiting Room, Pheobe Bridgers
Long chapter for you today because you deserve it 🫶🏻
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MY MOTHER'S CALL was taking up quite a long time this Friday, not that I was surprised by it considering how much she wanted me to prepare before I visited Carlisle for my winter break from university. Speaking of which, today marked the end of the autumn semester! Yes, I was finally free from the shackles of education.
It was exhilarating to sit and watch shows and movies and snack on junk food like I always did, but this time, there was no added guilt of needing to study or catch up with my notes, which was deemed to be a very lonely experience all of a sudden; for reasons inexplicable to me.
I usually enjoyed revising alone - it was my preferred method so that no one could see how hard-working I was or copy my ways of studying. Keeping it a secret was also one of the reasons why I always got the highest grades in my year, got all the stars on my A and praise from my teachers.
It was different for my mother though. Somehow, no matter how hard I tried to be the best at everything, I could never measure up to her expectations. She made it clear when she didn't smile at me when I showed her my report cards, results or even my acceptance into Oxford's medicine programme. Maybe it was because she was brought up in China, but it wouldn't have hurt to express her appreciation for me every now and then. I thought I'd get over it and not be affected by it the more she seemed uninterested in my outcomes, but I only seemed to crave it more.
In my life, for once, I wanted to achieve something so big that she might finally accept that I was a valuable person, or even... a good daughter.
Even now, as she continued talking to me through my laptop screen, a part of me wondered why she was always so harsh on me. Even if her response to that was a simple 'I want the best for you,' or 'It's because I care for you,' she could still want the best and care for me whilst showing me her support through encouragement and affection. But her method was slightly more degrading than that, her use of bleak words and bad omens and pointing out my flaws until they become the only thing I see when I look into the mirror. They always find a way to resurface. It was the only thing that reminded me why I didn't, and will probably never, have a good relationship with her.
But that didn't matter for now. I was too occupied running from one end of the room to another to pack the perfect winter suitcase to take back to Carlisle.
