Midnight rider

Part 1

Sometimes I feel like my life is a horse movie. First of all, my name is Paige, which is definitely a horse girl name. And second of all, my parents just told me that we're moving to some ranch out in the middle of Utah so they can be with their beloved horses. My parents love horses. And, even though my name is Paige, I don't. They're dirty and they attract flies, and I just don't have the passion for horses that my parents do. 

Of course, my mom and my dad think the move will be a wonderful thing for me. A nice change of scenery, an opportunity to expand my horizons, all that crap. I tried to tell them that I don't want to leave, that I have friends here, that I love living in New York, but they didn't budge. What I really wanted to say was that they were ruining my life just so they could follow their stupid dreams of owning a horse ranch and living in the country. What I want is important, too, and they've just never considered that. 

I'm not saying my parents don't love me. They do. But they don't understand me. They never have, and they never will. We're just different, and they can't accept that I don't like th same things they do. They think moving out to this ranch will make me see things the way they do. But it won't. And I know that. 

I'm busy sulking in my room when my mom intrudes. "Honey, can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About you. I know you don't want to move, but-"

"Mom." I cut her off. "I don't want to leave my friends. I like it here. I'm happy. Why do you have to ruin all that?"

"Honey, this move is what's best for all of us," she says quietly. 

I take a deep breath, and finally say what I've been wanting to say to her. "No, Mom. It's what's best for you and Dad. Not me." Then I turn away from her and face the window, my sign that I'm ignoring her. Behind me, I can hear her give up and leave the room. 

i try to forget about the fact that I'm leaving everything behind and focus on the beautiful sunset unfolding in front of me. My parents aren't millionaires, exactly, but we can afford a house with a great view of the New York skyline. The sky is streaked with magenta and orange against the millions of tiny lights. I can see the empire state building outlined against the setting sun. i'm enjoying the view until I realize that this will probably be one of the last sunsets I'll ever see. Suddenly, the sunset just serves as a reminder of everything I'm leaving behind. It's not late, but I turn off the lights and get in bed. Maybe, just maybe, if I fall asleep, I can wake up and this will all be a dream.  

A little later my parents come in an I try my hardest to look like I'm sleeping peacefully. I can hear them whispering about me and something about the move, but i can't quite make out what they're saying. And honestly, I don't care. They can come up with whatever excuses they want, but they're still taking everything away from me. After a few minutes, they leave and close the door. 

The sun has set now, but I can still see the city through my huge glass windows. The sparkling lights and flashing billboards blare at me every time I open my eyes. When I was younger, I used to think of all the city lights as my nightlights. That they would protect me and keep me safe. Eventually, I realized they were just lights, but still there was something comforting about them, and staring outside at the city had helped through many rough nights. It's not helping me through this one, though. Another hour or two passes, and I know it's getting late. I twist and turn in my sheets, trying desperately to relax. But nothing works. 

All I can think about is leaving. Saying goodbye to my friends. The city. What it'll be like in the country. How will I sleep there? I know it's stupid, but I've always been a little afraid of the dark. I bet there won't even be people where we're going. And even i there are, it'll probably just be old married couples, and not a single kid my age. And even if there is kid my age, they'll be some country hillbilly who always has wheatgrass or something in their mouth. 

And the horses. I'll probably end up cleaning the stalls and feeding the horses and basically becoming my parents slave. I'm  fine with them loving horses. i get it. It's their dream. But now they're forcing me to live their dream too. 

My negative thinking just keeps spiraling. And every time I open my eyes, I see the twinkling city lights. But they're not comforting. It' like they're taunting me, mocking me. I know what I'm thinking is sort of crazy, but I can't stop myself from feeling like everything I liked about this city is turning against me. And my friends. They'll probably forget about me too. I'll just fade away from their minds. They won't text or call. Not like I would get reception anyway.  But I won't be able to see them. I'll live out the rest of my life in loneliness. 

I try to brainstorm ways to stay here, but I know my parents won't allow it. My parents are stubborn and determined, and even though i'm that way too, they still have authority over me. They will until I'm 18. 4 more years. I can make it, right? And then the thought settles in. 4 years. Without friends, reception, and civilization. Without anyone to turn to except for my idiot parents and some horses. 

I start crying. I hardly ever cry, not while watching movies or even when I'm hurt. still, the tears run down my face.  But I feel like my whole world is crumbling and there's nothing I can do to stop it. And I know worse things have happened to other people. I know there's starving kids in Africa who have it way worse than I do. So I just feel worse.The only thing that's made my cry in 2 years is the fact that I'm moving. I might be making a big deal out of this, but it is a big deal! To me. 

I close my eyes and start to focus on my breathing like my therapist says. yeah, I have a therapist. She actually helps me work out some of my problems. In and out. Slowly, I start to calm down. I put all my focus on my steady breathing, ignoring everything else that's going wrong. It works and eventually I'm pulled down into a dark, dreamless sleep.