Musings of an Introverts

Short Story: Why?

A/N:  This small story came to mind when I thought about how many times our parents tend to do things that are "best" for us. That isn't always the case, but it also depends on what we choose to do. Warning: This story has slight mentions of suicide.

Why?

My only question for you is why? Why are you discussing my future without my input? Why do I have to change schools again? Why are you making these decisions without thinking about how I feel? Just why?

The first time I didn't mind, after all I was only five years old and still had everyone I knew in my new school. Oh but the second time you tricked me into taking that exam, you simply told me that they were only checking my intelligence. But of course, as a young child one believes anything their parents tell them and so I had believed you. What a lie that was, because not even a year later I was taken into that new school near the middle of the semester.

Yet you were surprised when I was barely passing, did you ever bother to think it was because I wasn't used to it. Or maybe you could have bothered to ask how I was doing. Like the times I cried in frustration when I didn't understand, how terrified of my teacher I was, or how I was mocked and taunted because of my accent that was once considered normal.

But you were expecting your second, and your first kept quiet fading into the background not wanting to bother you with my problems. I eventually got used to it, it wasn't as if you cared anyways.

Two years later I took another exam, you said you were doing it for my future. But what future? I had finally gotten the grades you had so desperately wanted. Even while I did my best to not let you know that I could hear your yells at night, when I had "gone to bed."

Did you ever notice when I began to lose my smile? Did you ever notice as I held that yellow book close to my chest that year? Always clutching it with a hidden desperation.

It was the only thing that reminded me that if you divorced that it wouldn't be my fault. Just like the school's before it, I was once again accepted into the school and once more failed to meet with your expectations. During my second year in the school, I was constantly belittled and compared to girls I had known my whole life. I hid my tears and faked the smile everyone once knew.

The following year I was transferred into another school and this time, it came to the point where the thoughts of ending my life began. What would end it faster? What would be painless? And would anyone truly care?

Until it came to that night where we fought until midnight, do you remember that night? Because I most certainly do. After you took away two of the most important things that kept me sane, I finally broke down. While you slept peacefully in your beds, I had a mental breakdown. All I can remember is that I was shaking uncontrollably as I tried to open that bottle of pills, I couldn't stop crying, and most of all I was just tired of it all.

But just before I took the pills, my mind cleared and I froze. Could I really end my life now, and at such a tender age? Was I willing to end my life without fulfilling my dreams? Would I really go through with it?

I threw away those pills and fell into a dreamless sleep, waking up to see you act like we hadn't fought the night before. I didn't even bother to tell you what had occurred while you slept, because what was I supposed to say? And so I stayed in that school for three years without a word that I would have to change schools, until now.

I'm already sixteen years of age, and now you want me to once again transfer into a different school? With constant change, it only brings about the aching and suffering I have in my heart that only wishes and yearns for nothing more than stability.

Please free me from this never ending cycle.

And please, please tell me why.