It's like looking down the barrel of a Gun.

Disclaimer: The material in this blog doesn't apply to all. In fact, my parents aren't like the ones I wrote about at all. It's just a random burst of emotion, so if you feel offended in some way after reading it,

Get the Fuck Lost.

Parents.

The people that gave us life.

Also the people that mold us how they want us to be. The people that let their disappointment in you shine as bright as the sun. The people that expect you to go down a path, a path that they chose.

They want you to be the best. Because they don't want to feel that they've screwed up. They don't want to think they've made a mistake. They want you to be the best because that way, they wont be alone when they're senile. They'll have somebody. They'll have someone who will look after them. They want you to be the best because they want to fill their pride. They want to have a topic to boast about to their friends. They want to seem important. And you're their excuse.

Parents know what's best for you.
Maybe they do. Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves. Maybe they have plans, plans that will make us successful, plans that will make us rich.

All I really want in Life is to live it. Get through each day with a smile on my face, do something new every so often. Have a job I'm great at AND love. Choose my own series of little winding roads, not just one path. I want to have unexpected experiences, I want to feel what it is to truly be Free, truly be Happy. I want to experience Love. With all it's heartaches and joys. I want to run, run as fast as I can, and not have a single thought about my aching legs. I want to go somewhere and not worry about what I'm going to do. I want to meet new people and not care that we don't speak the same language, all I'll take into notice is the connection we have, as people. I want to wake up with the rising sun, stay up late and count the stars. I want to feel the thrill of rides, taste the sugar and colouring of the cotton candy, laugh at the clowns. Smell the salt of the Pier as I walk along a boardwalk with balloons in my hand. I don't want to have to take pictures for memory; I want to have it all in my head. I want to chase vans in a school car park with friends, I want to laugh until my sides are aching with pain, I want to cry until my eyes swell up. I want to read with only the light of the lamp post on the street outside my window. I want to swim in the ocean and taste the salt on my lips. I want to taste berries, straight from the bush. I want to be like water. Flowing in any direction the wind takes me, casually getting there in my own time. I want to be like Air. Inspiring and Moving others. I want to be the gust of wind that sweeps through your hair on a windy day. I want to be the desired breeze on those scorching hot summers. I want to be like Earth. Bringing new life to things everyday. Providing the care and necessities for others to grow. I want to be like fire. Burning spontaneously; Burning bright.

I don't want the story to be written down. I want to write it as I go along.

And after I experience Life. I'll settle down. I'll get that job that'll make me successful and rich. I'll do it for my parents. After all, I'd owe it all to them. I'd think to myself, amused how "their control over me is what inspired me to rebel. It's what inspired me to do what I want to do. The control..

It challenged me; it made me experience Life."