You make it easy to leave you

When your eyes betray a mathematical glaze
When your feet trample flowering weeds unseen
When your fingers touch your wallet every third second
And my shoulder every fourth, checking me, checking me
When you become shrill with concern
When you slap me for my own good
When you tell me you know best
Indignant when I doubt your ways
When you refuse to explain
The 10-foot walls you've built me
When you shower me with gifts
Money, pension plans, more money
When you exhort me to be this, be that
When you make me learn new stories of your past
But none of my past
When you throw away my old dresses
Redecorate my rooms, discard my books
When you urge me to speak out
But panic when I begin to raise my voice
When you bemoan my disinterest in anything
Except food, shopping, food
When you despair at what I've become
Never wondering where you went wrong
Only where I have disappointed
When you call me names
Loser, quitter, ingrate
When I only wish to save myself

By Wendy Gan

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