Breaking Expectations

Torn

Many teenagers are torn between who they are expected to be and who they want to be. Parents always hope that their kids will follow in their footsteps but what if we don't want to.

For years my mother has been training me to be the perfect child. To have the picture perfect family to show off to all her friends. But what if I don't want that.

Being the children of a pastor always ment we were on display. In our home,  down the street.  I was never alowed to be me. The activities we did and the clubs we joined were always chosen by our parents, making sure that it wouldn't ruin their "reputation".

For years it never bothered me. Until I saw what my life could be. My friends hanging out after band practice, their stories about school,  about real classes,  with real teachers. What if I wanted that. Not all.  Just a taste.  Just... A moment.

But they wouldn't let me. 

My friends always invited us to join them. My brother and me.  But I knew my mother wouldn't like it. Wouldn't like us stay out too late. Out too long in the public eye without her or father watching.

My parents aren't bad people, don't get me wrong.

My mother is a female rights activist, traveling the world to open the eyes of women to the acts of our lord and Savior. To help them understand that they aren't just women but they are people too.

My father runs our business.  We have houses around the area for back packers and travellers who can't afford fancy hotel rooms or need a place to stay for a while. For people who need a place to stay whilst they get on their feet.

They are great people, so caring, so loving. I love my parents, don't get me wrong, but some times I feel that I need to be who I want to be. 

Not someone they expect me to be. 

My brother feels the same way too.  I can tell.  He has started to question things.  Things that make my mother mad.  With every question he asks I'm torn between wanting to know the truth and not wanting to upset my mother. Every question that he asks is one that's been flowing though my brain for weeks now, but I have never had the courage to ask. 

I dont know what to do.  I have been given everything, but everything they want isn't always everything I need. Sometimes I feel like a spoilt brat, unappreciative of what I have. But thats not me. This life, this path. It's not mine.

The perfect son,  the perfect brother. The perfect family.  Sometimes it's all too much. That's when music comes in. 

It started off as just another club,  another activity my parents wanted us to do, my brother and me. But now it has become so much more.  As I sit, figured flowing over the keys, I can let everything out.  No one knows.  Just me. All the frustration gliding through the air in a meticulous melody. A story only I can decipher, one only I know exists. Sometimes I want someone to share it with, but who will understand. Who can I confide in. No-one... For now it's just my music and me. 

As my breath flows from my body,  perfectly forming the intricate phrases, the harsh staccato as my tongue hits my teeth in a perfected manner. All the emotions, once more,  leave my being.  Allowing me to be free. 

Until the song ends and I'm back to reality.  Back to the expectations.