(Trigger warning: trauma, death)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After deciding to leave the school, I had a conversation with my parents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Over the years, my communication with my parents has been pretty typical. We talked about the usual daily stuff\u2014meals, activities, schoolwork, projects, and relationships with friends. But something always felt off. For example, they never seemed to understand why I enjoyed certain music, why I was drawn to tragic stories, or the pain and struggle I felt inside. I used to think this was how it would always be\u2014that we\u2019d live our whole lives without truly knowing each other. But I decided it was time for an honest conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I told them I\u2019d been living in pain for years. As I spoke, I pulled a cigarette from the pack. They didn\u2019t even know I smoked. My father didn\u2019t say a word and just lit the cigarette for me. (It\u2019s not the nicotine I crave, but the act of having something to do when I\u2019m bored or stressed\u2014a cigarette helps me think and die sooner.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I explained that I felt like I\u2019d been living someone else\u2019s life, like in the movie Inception, where the deeper I go, the closer I get to the end goal: the person others want me to be. After more than 20 years of depression, I reached the state of limbo. I started questioning everything\u2014reality, truth, meaning\u2014and eventually thought about how and where I should end my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every choice I made seemed like mine, but deep down, they were driven by a need for decency and respect, never passion or happiness. I began to understand why people strive for decency: to get attention. A decent job, a high salary, a seemingly harmonious family\u2014all for a bit of respect and love. Genuine equality, respect, and love between people are too hard to get, so some choose to chase wealth or power to get that sliver of attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My parents admitted they had no idea I felt this way. Maybe, at that moment, I seemed like an alien to them. Growing up, I was always sensitive, cautious, and tried to be decent. After this conversation, I knew our lives would continue as before. I didn\u2019t feel relieved, but I had shed a mask and stepped out of that suffocating existence. Later, my parents said they hoped I would boldly pursue my dreams and so on. But I don\u2019t dwell on what they said. At this point, their response or judgment doesn\u2019t matter to me anymore. Hopefully, I’ll start listening to my instincts more and finding hope amidst the chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(Trigger warning: trauma, death) After deciding to leave the school, I had a conversation with my parents. Over the years, my communication with my parents has been pretty typical. We talked about the usual daily stuff\u2014meals, activities, schoolwork, projects, and relationships with friends. But something always felt off. For example, they never seemed to understand…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":862,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-769","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-journal"],"yoast_head":"\n