The Story of Why

Keda - The Story of Why

My life is not a love story. Nor is it a tragedy, a fantasy or a science fiction.  It is simply what it is. A life. It's not significant in any way, to be fairly honest. It's just mine. My own story. My novel, my artwork, my creation. Well, I didn't create my own life, but I guess I created -and still am creating- what happens after that. In life, you're just kind of expected to know what to do. To figure it out. You're told to go to school. Then highschool. Get good grades so you can go to university and ultimately get a good job. That's just how it works. Anything done that doesn't apply to society's standards is looked down upon. Society is like a computer. It has all this information, but it can't really do anything with it. It can't generate new ideas. It does what it knows. Like a computer, society is close-minded.

I'm Keda, by the way. 15, turning 16 in a few months. Just some high school girl, unhappy with the world. It's not that I'm unhappy with it. The world, afterall, is not a person. The universe, you see, does not owe you anything. You do not have the right to a good life. Your life is what you make it. You got made fun of by some girl who thinks she's better than you? Don't think oh, watch out! Karma's gonna get you! Get up and slap that bitch because the universe will not do it for you! 

I live in Ohio, and nothing about my life is really "special." But honestly, what makes a life special? To be on billboards and magazines, and then the next week ending up making a little mistake and all of a sudden everyone is talking behind your back? Or being popular in highschool? All my time at school I've been laughed at and teased and I put up with it because...honestly, I don't know. For years, I've been obsessed with the idea of impressing people and living up to their expectations. Why? I simply cannot fathom one reason as to why. Why has been my question to everything. Why do we put all our time in preparing for the future when there might never even be one for us? Kids die all the time. At birth, at 4, 5, 6, 11, 16. Any age, any time. The future doesn't matter for them because they'll never get one. We never care about that, do we? We overlook at the fact that something can happen to you. It's pretty pointless to spend all your time thinking about the future when you're so young. We just strive to have a good life as adults. Which is potentially putting a dagger in the back of our childhood and twisting it.

You know the worst part of it all? We don't care about anything but ourselves. Except our children. We don't care about anyone else's life. Other than our childrens'. But, the only thing is, we don't care about our children until we have children and by that time, it's too late, isn't it?

We, as humans, have a lot of faults. We grow up with only one goal; to prepare ourselves for the future. We are plunged into the world, not knowing what we're even doing there. Just living simply because that is what we are supposed to do. We raise our children just the same, thinking that if we managed it, so could they. Well, the kids, like me, have no idea what we're even doing. 

Why doesn't anyone stop and think hey, what if I didn't do exactly what everyone tells me to? And no, I'm not talking about your sixth grade stand up on a chair and dance as soon as your lunch monitor turns around doing-what-you're-told-not-to. I'm talking about going to an arts school because you want to be an artist even though everyone tells you you won't make it. Dropping out of college to make YouTube videos. Creating your own company with a bunch of random people on the Internet you've poured your heart and soul to and everyone calls you "strangers." 

Okay, I'm not telling you to drop out of college or befriend random people you've never met over the Internet. I'm just telling you to do what you want. Really, anything. Not everyone can be a doctor or a lawyer or a straight A student. You don't need to -

"Keda! Come on! We're going to be late for church!" my mom called from downstairs.

"Coming!" I shouted. I come from a religious Christian family that believes Atheists are the equivalent of Satan. I, on the other hand, don't really believe in a mystical being that created everything and everyone that watches over us and sends good guys to a luxiourious hotel in the skies, while the bad guys go into a fiery pit where their souls are tortured for eternity. I'm sorry. I respect religion, please don't think I am ignorant or whatever, it's just... I believe in science. I grabbed my bag and looked in the mirror at my own reflection. Hair so dark a shade brown it looked black that was a little longer than shoulder length. Eyes a sort of piercing blue, not the sort of blue boys in romance novels would call "as blue as the sea", but more icy and intense. I was wearing a black dress that ended at my mid-thigh. Neck line at a comfortable place, just as I prefer it because I like being comfortable. And I'm also going to church. Heh. My mom said this dress looked like I was going to a funeral -of course she knocked on wood three times after she said so, goddamn superstitions- but I liked it. I sighed. I flicked the light switch off and headed down the stairs.