the weight of asking

Every time I have to ask my parents for something—whether it’s a new book, a pair of shoes, or even just permission to go somewhere—I feel an unbearable heaviness settle in my chest. It’s not about whether they’ll say yes or no. It’s the act of asking itself, the admission that I need something beyond what has already been given. It feels like adding weight to a scale already struggling to balance, like I am tipping it further in the wrong direction.

Maybe it comes from being the eldest, from growing up too fast in a house where childhood always came second to responsibility. Maybe it comes from seeing my parents hesitate before saying yes, watching the flicker of calculations in their eyes—money, time, effort, inconvenience. It is never a simple yes or no. It is an equation. And even if the answer is yes, the math lingers in the air.

There are times when I convince myself that I don’t need whatever it is I wanted. That it is not worth the feeling of being a burden. I tell myself that I can make do, that I am already lucky for what I have. But need is a stubborn thing, and so is longing. It does not always listen to reason. So, when I do ask, I do it cautiously, apologetically, like I am making a request I already regret.

And the worst part? The guilt that follows even after they agree. The nagging thought that maybe I should not have asked, that maybe I could have gone without. It is a strange thing to feel guilty for needing, for wanting, for existing in a way that takes up space and resources. But that is what it feels like sometimes—like my existence comes with a price tag, and every request is another line item on a growing bill.

I wonder if my parents ever feel the weight of my hesitation. If they notice the way I phrase my requests like suggestions, leaving them open-ended so they have an easy way out. If they hear the guilt in my voice, the unspoken it’s okay if you can’t. Because that’s the truth—I would rather do without than feel like I am asking for too much.

And maybe this is just how I was raised. To be conscious of cost, to never be wasteful, to consider others before myself. But sometimes, I wish I could unlearn it. I wish I could ask without carrying the weight of it for days afterward. I wish I could believe, even for a moment, that I am not a burden simply for needing things.

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