Date: April 27, 2025

Author: Sarah Williams

I don’t know when it happened exactly, but somewhere along the way, I stopped living for myself. Growing up, I was always told that I had to get the grades, get into a good school, and pick a career that would make my parents proud. They had this vision for my life that didn’t match anything I wanted. I tried to tell them, tried to explain that I wasn’t happy, that this course was not what I had envisioned for my future. But it didn’t matter to them. What mattered was that I followed the plan they had laid out for me.

I’ve always been a quiet person, someone who keeps things to herself. I don’t like to argue, and it’s easier for me to just go along with things than to fight. So, when I went to college, I just went through the motions. I hated every single day of it. It felt like I was drowning in assignments I didn’t care about, sitting in classes that drained me, and watching my mental health spiral while my parents couldn’t see it.

The real breaking point came last semester. I knew I was failing most of my courses. I didn’t want to be there. But no matter how many times I told my parents I wasn’t happy, all they cared about was how I would look to others. They’d go on about how much they had sacrificed for me, how this was the right path, and how I needed to make them proud. It never mattered that I was miserable. Their focus was on the outside world—on what others would think about their daughter who was “succeeding” in life. My feelings? Well, they didn’t seem to care much about them.

So, when my final grades came in and they were abysmal, I panicked. I couldn’t handle the confrontation. I couldn’t handle seeing their disappointment, their anger, their frustration. So, I did something I’m not proud of. I faked my final grades. I went online, altered them, and handed them over to my parents like everything was fine. I couldn’t bear the thought of them finding out the truth, of seeing their faces when they realized that I had failed. It wasn’t even a good idea, looking back, but I didn’t know what else to do.

They were so happy when they saw those grades. They didn’t question it. They never suspected a thing. But it only added to the guilt I felt. They started telling family members how proud they were of me. How their daughter was doing great in college, how they had raised me right. I smiled and nodded, all while feeling like an imposter. I knew deep down that I had deceived them, and that hurt me more than anything else.

The worst part is that I don’t even care anymore. Sure, I care about my future, but I’ve lost all motivation to pretend that this is what I want. I can’t bring myself to feel guilty for my failure. I don’t care if they’re disappointed. I’ve spent years trying to live up to their expectations, and now that I’ve let them down, I can finally breathe. It’s not that I want to hurt them—it’s that I can’t keep living for them anymore.

I’m stuck now. My grades are what they are, and I’m stuck in a college I never wanted to be in. I’m surrounded by people who are just as lost as I am, pretending to be happy, pretending to be okay with the path laid out for them. I’m tired. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, but I know that I can’t keep pretending that this life is the one I want.

Maybe one day, I’ll have the courage to sit down with my parents and tell them the truth. But for now, I’m just going to focus on getting through each day. I’m tired of carrying this weight, and I don’t know if I can keep pretending to be someone I’m not. All I want is for them to see me for who I am, not just the daughter they want me to be.