Dear “Nice Family,”

It’s me, your eldest brother and son. You know it’s still hard to believe that even when I’m the first-born, I’m the one who’s different from this so-called “nice family.” I mean not only am I sometimes slow in understanding simple concepts, but the weird, crazy side of me seems to shame you to the public eye. Believe me I’ve tried going your ways, but at times they just didn’t feel “right” with me because in some cases I didn’t feel I was being myself. So I started to define who I am by how YOU guys see me and not how I see me. When Dad calls me stupid, I actually believe that I am stupid. When Mum calls me sensitive, I believe I am that sensitive. When my siblings call me weird, I too believe I’m that weird, like bad weird. Therefore, I am different because apparently I am not any of the things you are as what the rest of society accepts as sane or normal. I don’t seem to match the criteria of what an eldest son or brother should be like according to the rules of you and the society.

After many arguments with the “nice family” debating who I should be, I’ve concluded that I may not know who I am at all when I actually thought I did now at age 25. You would think your own family would accept you for who you are and be proud of it that you show him off to others, but I was sadly mistaken. Therefore, that’s when I began to question if I was adopted or maybe just belonged to a different mother or father, but you were just that good at keeping a secret that no one in this family knows about it. I get that you might laugh or roll your eyes out when I simply mention the idea of being adopted, but that’s how I feel is my place in this “nice family.” Sure, you care about me and I don’t doubt that, but because of my I guess shameful and lame personality (or at least I think it is) I feel like I’m not recognized or this is not the son or brother you’ve known to be good, quiet, sane and “normal” person you were used to seeing.

Because of this notion about me from you guys, I sometimes wonder that if I was to commit suicide or even be in a fatal car accident are you going to blame me for being a maniac? Or are you going to feel guilty for not asking me how I really was even when I put a smile on my face just to reassure you I’m ok? From the constant complaining I often do about myself, I see how your eyes roll when I talk or giving me the “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” kind of expressions and body language. You don’t even know how much it hurts not being heard or listened to when if any of you had the slightest of emotional dilemmas, I can actually be a good listener. So, I have just reverted back to my old ways in keeping my emotions bottled up inside. Sometimes yes, the bottle cap can get lose, but after my crazy tantrums I do in the privacy of my room, I make sure the cap is closed tight again.

You guys keep reassuring me that there’s nothing wrong with me, but apparently a stupid video I posted on Instagram tells me otherwise even when the video doesn’t really conflict with the morals and values. So after this incident, it’s now even hard to believe any compliment you give me because I don’t know if you’re actually telling the truth or what the society accepts as good compliments that I may or may not be.

“Nice family,” I’m not asking for your pity of me and I certainly am not asking you to shower me with a thousand compliments. I am asking you to forgive me if I wasn’t the son or brother you or the society might have hoped to be. I just wish you would accept me for who I turned out to be NOT who I couldn’t be. Just so you know, I still love you guys with all my heart, and forgive me again if I have brought shame and disgrace to this “nice family.”


A Letter To My “Nice Family”

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