I ran into my room and slammed my door. I couldn’t help but cry. I kept crying. I didn’t think any one human being could cry this much. There were so many tears. Endless tears. I thought tears ended after a certain amount of them were cried. I always figured they were like banks. And you had so many. People would work for them, happy moments was a job for tears. You had happy moments and were rewarded with tears. After all, you can never have happiness without sorrow. You could never have love without hate. Life was all an oxymoron, a paradox.
People could be mean, but then again, that was life. And only being fourteen didn’t help with the stress. That was all I ever had for five months. Stress. I sound so self-centered. I sound immature. I hate my life. Why couldn’t I make my own decisions? What was wrong with that? Did I honestly have to do everything my parents told me to do? Did I really have to believe in everything they do? Was that what children were meant for?
I hadn’t fought with my father in a very, very long time. And after today, I don’t think it will ever be the same. I had never had a fight with anyone this large. He is so against me making my own decisions. I can’t make them anymore. I can barely breathe. I feel so suffocated. I thought we, as kids, were taught to start to learn to make our own decisions. I thought that we, as teenagers, were taught to take responsibility for our actions. I thought, as adults, we were taught to live out our lives to the fullest. So then, why, is my father, making me get an abortion?
