Honestly, I’ve never really been good at saying what I feel. Especially to my parents. I just keep things inside most of the time. It’s not that I don’t care—I do. I care a lot. I just don’t always know how to show it or say it right. I just have a hard time showing it. I love them more than they probably realize—I just struggle to put it into words. This is a small piece of what I feel but can’t always say out loud.
I’m not really the type who says how I feel. I guess that’s just how I’ve always been. As a daughter, I know I’m not perfect. I’m quiet, yeah. But I do care. A lot. I just don’t always know how to show it.
Sometimes I look at my parents and feel this heavy pain. Seeing them work hard, push through tiredness, smile even when things are tough… it hits me. I cry sometimes. Quietly. They never see it.
We’re not rich. We never were. Life was never easy. But my parents did everything they could. They gave us food, school, and little things we asked for. Maybe not a luxurious life, but a life where we could breathe and eat and dream.
I think they see me as distant sometimes. I get that. I don't say “I love you” much. I wish I could say it more. But it’s hard for me. I try to show it instead — through actions, small things.
om... she's strong. Works as a massage therapist. No company behind her. Just her doing home services. I remember one time in junior high — my shoe broke. The bottom just popped open while I was walking home. I felt so embarrassed. I walked slow, hoping no one would notice.
At home, I tried gluing it back. Mom saw it. She didn’t say much. Just said she’d buy me new shoes. That meant a lot to me.
That weekend, she brought me with her to work. Said we’d get the shoes after. Her client was a couple — the woman wanted her legs massaged, the man his back. My mom sat on this tiny chair while they sat on high ones.
They were kind. Offered snacks, gave me some fruit. I watched mom work. And inside, I was crying. She was doing all this... for me. Just to buy me shoes. I held it in. I didn’t want her to see me like that.
Afterward, she smiled. Said the clients were rich but kind. Then she said, “Let’s go get your shoes.” I just smiled. But deep inside, I was breaking. Tired as she was, she still put us first.
My mom raised seven of us. No complaints. Just strength. I love her so much. I just hope one day, I can give her back everything she gave me.
My mom has always done everything she could to make sure we’re okay, even if it meant putting herself last. That day with the shoes, I saw just how much she’s willing to give, and it broke something in me. I wanted to cry, but I held it in. I don’t say “thank you” enough, and maybe I don’t show it clearly, but I love my parents so much. One day, I just want to be able to give them even a little of what they’ve given me.
