Free your mind of expectations

A slow ending

How do you know when it's the end ?

How do you quit something untochable, something unapproachable? 

How do you even know for sure that it's the end...

Slim, with pointy bones, small but bright eyes, and really silent. That's how I would discribe myself as a little child. Never talking to strangers has been a rule imprinted in my mind, without my parents even saying it I believe. Frosty, naive but curious eyes, and a small mouth that only opened when I wanted attention or wanted to sing. The body of a child is weak, fragile, but that wasn't what was the problem. The problem was my mind, my weak mentality, easily influenced with no questions asked way of existing.

I was always easy to convince, to be manipulated, since I was a little kid. Maybe because I hated conflict, or because I didn't like to see people sad or mad, I just went along with anything that seemed like the best option, even if it was to not choose a side when two friends are fighting over toys or my mother telling me to give up my toys to my brother so he would stop crying. 

I went along with anything that would end the momentary problem, and after that...I started doing the same for long term problems or decisions. I never liked making decisions, so I let my brother choose the candy, I let my friends chose the place to met, I let my parents decide anything and everything. Until they all stopped accepting that, my brother started asking what I want to buy, my friends changed and I had to decide too. My parents realized somewhere along the line, at the end of middle school, 2010, that I couldn't make any decision and I relied on them for everything, I didn't care about embarrassing myself by coming with my parents to high school, or holding their hand in public, or meeting my friends with them. So, they started forcing me to make decisions sometimes, no matter how much I didn't want to.

Because, when you make a decision, you are to blame for any outcome, but when someone else does it for you, you can blame them and feel better. That wasn't exactly my case, I hated myself for the outcome no matter who made the choice, but the pressure was too much for me to make a choice. 

I was easy to manipulate, I hated making decisions, I went along with anything that was solving short term problems, and most of all, I hate disappointing my parents.

Now, I can't just hate myself for everytime I had disappointed them, but there are a few cross points in my life until now that I know I have disappointed them enough to count. First time ever, was in middle school, year 2008, my first year in a city I realized I hated, I had failed English the first half of the school year, and that was enough for them to know, everything that had happened after they weren't as aware of. But that was the first time I felt for sure that I had disappointed them, and it was only the begining. I corrected that failure by starting to unconsciously learn English.

The second time, was right at the begining of my high school years, in 2010. I had entered, chosen by the computer, at a high school with a pretty bad reputation, that was an hour away from home, at the other end of the city. I refused to switch high school, because I didn't want to have to do the "new kid" play again. I didn't want to be the new kid again, this would be my 3rd time being the new kid. So I stuck to it, for half a year, and I was actually getting used to the school, it was easy, really easy and I didn't want to change my easy way to something challenging the way my mother told me that I should, because "I can do more than that". But I couldn't do more than that, and she didn't understand me.....I agreed to transfer in the summer break, because I couldn't stand it anymore.

The third time...the third time still stings me. It was close to my 18 birthday, and I was driving my mom's car with her helping me, it felt like bounding time, and I was having fun. But I knew my mom would think of something else, and I told her that I wouldn't like to actually learn to drive because I was afraid. Afraid to be the one driving a car that could so easily kill me and anyone in the car with me. I was afraid that I would kill myself in a car accident because it would be so easy, with just the wrong pull of a hand. But she didn't understand that, she and my dad bought me a car...a car that I loved but didn't want to drive. I failed my writing exam the first time, my dad give up on me. I failed it the second time, and my mom gave up on me. I never corrected this mistake, and they still tease me about it everytime they get the chance, it hurts. They sold the car, I was there for the selling, it hurt.