“You’re a failure.”
My father has always called me a “failure” ever since I was little.
I don’t remember when he started calling me that.
But he still does.

My mother started buying me things for my dowry when I was in middle school.
She got so many towels, sheets, underwear, blankets,
Pots and cups.

It was a cursed day when you came to the world.
You’re ugly.
No one will ever love you.
No one will want to marry you.
If would be their own bad luck if anyone decided to marry you.

I’m your mother and I have your best interests at heart.
I’m telling you it’s not going to work out.
Building your lives together is not something that’ll work.

My appearance is what’s stopping me from getting on stage.
I’ve even considered cosmetic surgery.
I’m learning script writing so that I could play my own self on stage.
I’ll write a play that talks about people like me.
I’ll find someone like me to play the leading role.

I never fantasized about wearing a white gown and veil.
But I’m surrounded by people who interrogate me every year as to why I haven’t got married yet.

Around two and a half months later he told me,
“You must stay at home, because I’m about to start work,
So you must stay with the kid.”
I refused, of course, and told him, “I’ll send him to a daycare center.”

Oh sweetheart, God bless you!
You’re all grown up and a bride now!
Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this day?
Since the moment I had you;
The second you were born and I found out that I had a girl.