Have You Ever...

Have you ever created a resume and applied for jobs for your immigrant Father who is going to be laid off? 

I have.

Have you ever felt yourself cut open your chest, lay your heart on the floor, and cry at the sight of it?

I have. 

Have you ever dreamt of a life without guilt, free to use the money you have earned so hard so that you can do the things you love with the people you love?

I have not. 

As I work until the late hours of the night... after a full day's of work.. looking ahead to a full day of work ahead, I feel my heart crackling into pieces I don't even want to place together.  I think about my Father... the fact that English is not his mother tongue.. I think about the fact that he has no idea what to do or how to do it. He told me I catch him, but my heart tears at the catching as this is the man who tore my heart open as a child.. a childhood that withered away because it was too painful to remember. 

Now, I wither. I have been withering since the day I was born into a family that felt having children was a responsibility out of culture, not out of love. And now, it is my responsibility out of culture, to take care of my family. But where do the parts of me go? Am I responsible to pick up these pieces myself? Who takes care of me when my world falls apart? Who can help me if I were to lose my job, not have enough money to pay rent, and not have the resources to better my life? 

My mother works rolling sushi at the mall until her fingers are numb and her nails become raw. Because that is what she has to do to provide- to give her portion. 

My sister dreamt bigger than all of us, became a doctor, lives in a city she undeniably calls her home, but is stacked with debt. 

Then, there is me. I am blessed in so many ways. I live in a city that I undeniably call my home. But, I am filled with guilt because I believe I constantly have too much when my parents have so little. I can't stand the image of my mother rolling sushi for strangers to make a few dollars on the daily. I can't imagine my Father crying in the corners of my childhood home scared of his life. And, I can't dream a life where I can be free of these images, responsibilities, and the pain that gathers into the crevices of my bones as a constant reminder of the weight that exists. 

I long to be alone, but I long for help. I long for a help that can save my life. I long to look at myself in mirror and believe that this can't be my forever. But I wake up every morning, get dressed, look at myself in the mirror, and know that today will be similar to yesterday, that my mother will go roll her sushi, that my father will be filled with the worry of how he can pay rent for his home, pay for the bills, have health insurance. 

But what if my world completely falls apart? Who will help them when I am not here? Who will they go to? How did we get here?