Fighting for Life | ✓

10 | A dream

I check the time and realize it's only eleven in the morning. Before going to the bookstore to collect a book I ordered, I make a short stop to the chemist's to buy some painkillers since I'm sure I will be swallowing those for the next few days.

I still have a couple of hours to kill, so I decide to roam around the city and explore a little.

I love seeing new places, traveling, exploring. If it were in my hands, I would go out every day and find someplace new.

But my parents, my family, don't let me. The only time I'm allowed to go out to travel or explore is when someone from my family is with me.

They all are busy. My folks don't have time to spare. Not that I mind, they have a business to run, my dad and uncle. But my mom and aunt? Nope. They'd rather stay in and watch daily soaps.

They know how much I love nature, and how much I love to go to places, how much I love to take a walk around the city just because I felt like it, how much I love to explore, how much I love to go out and do nothing. As long as I don't have to be in the house, I'm all good. Those walls in my house suffocate me.

I know it's supposed to be my home, but it doesn't feel like one. Sure. It more feels like a prison.

So I enjoy every second of me being out of the house. I always have.

I like to fly. I enjoy the open air. I'd rather stay in the middle of the woods in nature's lap if it meant being away from this gigantic house I live in and the persons.

My family is rich, with loads of money and all. But it's poor at the same time with the way they think.

I lived here in Miami since I can remember, but my parents say that until I was four, we used to live in New Jersey. Then my father partnered up in business with my uncle, and we moved to Miami.

My parents provided me the education in the best schools, gave me every facility I needed, and didn't.

But they couldn't give me what I crave the most.

They couldn't get me the freedom to fly around the city.

I've barely been out of Miami. Maybe once or twice, I can't remember. I've never seen the world beyond Florida. New Jersey doesn't count because I don't remember anything about that place.

Sometimes I just want to run away from all of it. But then, I picture my mother shedding her tears on me, my father's head low in his head, the defeated look on their faces—I can't do that to them.

I picture my aunt being angry at the world, but beneath that hard exterior, there's this woman who loves me with all her heart and is worried about me.

I picture my uncle, doing everything he could to find me, to try to make things right, but he's broken inside. He's more of my dad than my father. And that's saying something because even though my father has some rules for me just like any other, I know he couldn't bear a single scratch on me.

My cousin, Rick, he's the closest thing I've got to a brother and damn, he does a good job at that. He complies with the role of protective big brother I lack in my life. If I ran away, he would lose someone he turns to at his low moments; he would lose his rock through hard times.

My family has a weird way of showing me their love for me, but I know they do. They are harsh towards me because they want me to be strong through all the situations. I can't remember the last time my mom or dad telling me that they love me, or something similar. I also can't remember the last time I told them that I love them.

Because we never do. That's how it's with us. No one has ever told me that they love me. But I know that they do. Their actions tell the words that never leave their mouths. How they care for me, how they are angry at me when I hurt myself slightly so—

They say I am their rock. Maybe that's because it's in my nature to move on. Perhaps, because they never see the vulnerable side of me, because I always have this tough exterior in front of them? I don't know why they say that when I struggle to hold myself together every day.

If they believe that I'm their rock, how can I steal myself away from them?

I love myself. I love to travel. I love sports. I love nature. I love the dangers. I love risks. I love extreme life. I like to put myself out there. I love to learn.

But to do what I love, I would have to make my family upset. I have a whole different mentality than theirs. So to bring happiness to me, I would have to bring sadness to my family.

It's better that I live holding myself back than to make them upset. I'm seventeen, and in months, I'll be eighteen, and I'll be legally free, and they won't be able to do anything. But still, that won't mean that they'd be happy with me choosing a type of lifestyle they disapprove.

I'll have to go against them one day.

And I hope they'd think more openly and would let me do what I love without being disappointed with me.

A girl can dream, though.

* * *

I'm obsessed with Saweetie's songs these days. And Kehlani. And Chris Brown too. Okay, and Justin Bieber. Maybe Tyga too. Okay, you get my point? I love music. 

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