Short Stories

Identity

Have you ever wonder what is the purpose of living? I asked myself that question so many times. When I was in kindergarten, I would never have thought of such things. All I wanted was to enjoy my childhood and play with this group of people I had claimed to be my friends. How foolish of me to think that. A simple communication doesn't define us to be friends. Let alone acquaintances. However, such trifles do not matter to me. I believe that I live to please only one woman. That is the very woman that bore me. The woman that raised me to perfection... or so I'd like to believe.

I never thought about relationships or friendships. As I've said before, it is only my mother that mattered to me most. I was constantly the top student, acing every examination and even became the valedictorian during graduation. I definitely made sure my mother attended every one of my 'special events' which showed her my success. I was happy to see the smile on her face, her face that softens every time it turns towards me. That expression itself calms me and tells me something - I'm on the right track.

My mother wouldn't have smiled if I wasn't doing it right, right? She would have screamed at me, scolded and punished me, like every mother would do to their disappointing child. I grew up making her proud, making achievements to please, believing that that is my purpose in life. So then, why is she being buried six foot deep before me? I have yet to graduate from university, I have yet to show her my success. My true success. 

Why... are you leaving me so soon? 

As I stood beside her grave, I contemplated. Does this mean I no longer have a purpose in life? If that is so, then why am I still breathing? Shouldn't my heart stop beating to end this living form of mine? If you are dead, Mother, then why am I alive? You can't possibly be able to see me from there can you, Mother dearest? Of course not. I am being ridiculous.

I began walking away and return to my home where I once shared with my mother. It feels... lonely. It is quiet now. Too quiet. I felt something warm on my cheek. Something I never thought I would feel. "I'm crying...?" I wondered. My heart aches for you, mother. Come back to me. Are you not the reason for me to live? If it isn't then what am I doing here? Is this really who I am? Please help me, mother. Someone, anyone.

Who am I?