Caroline Watson was a world famous and beloved artist, a visionary and a pioneer in her field and a successful buisness women. She was glorified to be an outstanding rolemodel for beginners. In short she was perfect. Little did they know my story, the story of her daughter. I was expected to be perfect. A mould was set for me before I was born. The mould that suffocated me the one which seeped into my skin and made me bleed. The melancholic mask that I wore so that in the eyes of millions I would be deserving but on the inside I was dying my first and slow death. Shamed upon by my own mother for not liking visual arts or as she put it, the delicate brush strokes which painted a story. Mocked for not even being able to draw a straight line. Soon my soul stopped singing and my mind stopped thinking as I breathed my last breath, slowly into the ventilator as my mom begged me to draw one more crooked line on the ECG . Now I lay lost, one among the many at age of 14 too soon to be late etched on my tomb stone .