• Forever I am Free.

    I sat alone in my room, seething, as hot tears streamed down my soft, crimson red cheeks. The authoritive figures in the household, the ones who called themselves "parents" stormed in, bringing along energy that could of put anyone down into the ground and slammed the door behind them.
    My father spoke first, his voice bringing out the monster from within,
    "How dare you disobey our word and stay out so late. Do you know how stupid you are for coming the time you wanted too?!"

    I winced, staying silent as arguing had never really solved my problems. "DO YOU?!" he roared, breaking my train of thoughts. My tears had stopped falling, and a voice so small came out.

    Small, but unbelievably bold.

    "It's only eleven. I didn't expect it to be so late. Besides, I had fun...", I looked up, as my voice broke at the word "fun". He snorted. To him, it was funny, because fun was nothing but a ridiculous, and unimportant feeling. It was not neccessary in the game of life. Then his eyes grew cold.
    "You think you're smart talking back to your father? Because if I were you, I wouldn't be talking much. I'm older, and I've got the power over you." he answered, threatening.

    I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Seriously? You'd actually say something like that to your own kid? I thought, and looked at his face, searching for any sign of dignity on him that was left.
    Finding nothing, I spoke.
    "I believe eleven o'clock is a reasonabley safe hour to get back home. It's before midnight, and the perfect time to end the day, in my opinion."

    The look on my father's face was a look of incredulous surprise.
    "You must be goddamn deaf" he said. "Because I clearly pointed out that you shouldn't be talking back. Not to mention that with that attitude you're portraying, you're embarrassing the family name." Everything had somehow involved the family name.

    I looked up at him, knowing that I spoke too much.

    "And by the looks of it, it doesn't seem like you're going to change, so get out of my house. Get the hell right out."
    Anger began to creep up again. Ignoring it, I glared and said "No".
    Whatever my body language was, it was powerful enough to shut my father up, and it was then that my mother spoke.
    "Don't talk to your father like that.", she said, with a stern look on her face.

    I threw my hands up in the air. This was ridiculous. I was definately not one to keep taking orders like some kind of freaking robot. Not from anyone.

    I spoke.

    "What is it with you guys and your power trips? I'm safe, aren't I? I appreciate your concern, but approaching me this way isn't, in no way, going to bring me any closer to you. I mean, hell. You're lucky that I even involve you in my life." I spat. Sometimes being the nice guy, got you no where in life. I was sick of this. I was sick of them.

    Before either one of them said anything, I stood up and headed towards the door, looked at them, opened it, then made my way downstairs. Walking towards the kitchen door, I closed my eyes to hold back the tears. I didn't deserve to cry because of them. My tears were more important than just self pity.
    I bit my tongue gently to stop myself from becoming an emotional train wreck and opened the door as the cold vancouver air hit my face.
    Already, I felt free.

    Freedom, if this is what it was, felt good.

    Inhaling deeply, I let reality hit me.
    Holding myself, I smiled.
    I was me and that was all that mattered, and as my frustrations and somber feelings slipped away, I cried.
    Cried for how beautiful this life was.
    Cried for them.
    But more importantly, I cried for me.

    Because in the end, I realized that I had always been free.