There I was, once again, in my bed facing the beautiful scenery, the comfort of sunlight seeping through the evergreen forest, the lush emerald leaves that sit upon each branch, each branch and splinter of wood trunk lit up by the awoken sun, the ground rode-away by multiple paths of others. This ever-so-beautiful day brings the warmth that I have missed every day.
Yet ironically, this was the day. The day I would finally stand up to my parents and do what I most want, the first step forward, in all of this, I'll tell my parents that I will no longer be attending uni, no longer doing the courses they want me to do, and finally be able to do what I want for the first time in my life. I'll finally be able to enlighten them about the things I most desire in life, the things I most want to do and succeed in them, in my own way.
The utmost warmth and comfort gradually left my body, as the thought occurred in my mind. Slowly being filled with utter dread, coldness, and guilt, these constantly building up and multiplying in intensity, almost as though wanting to not mention the slightest distaste of the situation. But he knew it needed to be done, for his own good.
So he proceeded to get himself ready, slowly starting to stress more and more, with the disheveled mess that has been left behind. His bedroom floors are covered with clothes, old and new. The bathroom was covered with stains, his mirror reflecting his inner turmoil, absolutely messy and destroyed. Even through all this mess and struggle, he manages to get himself ready, taking a shower, getting a new set of clothes out of the wardrobe, and getting dressed.
Every step of the routine, amplified his anxiety to the next level, making it almost hard to breathe, seemingly as though suffocating. As no longer being able to stand in his messy room, he leaves.
With all this anxiety, I leave my room, opening the door, to already hear my parents having a hushed conversation in the kitchen downstairs. Mentally and slowly preparing myself for the outburst that I would most likely hear as soon as I start to speak.
I start going down the stairs, each step weighing me down, with each breath feeling more and more restless and lightheaded. With each coming step realizing how close I am to the utmost disaster that will appear.
Each step until the last is there, contemplating whether to take the next step or run back upstairs and hide under my covers as if I've never existed. Before I knew it, that's when I heard them.
"Morning Persephone, what's taking you so long?" questioned my mother.
As fast as lightning, my head shot in her direction, my mind no longer clouded with thought, but rather the clear image of my mother standing in the kitchen entrance, staring at me blankly, questioning me with her gaze.
Without knowing I was staring for so long, I quickly answered "Nothing, I was just thinking".
Without a second to leave, "what were you thinking about?" she asked. I replied with hesitation, " I was a-actually hoping to talk to dad and y-yourself?" I couldn't help but question myself as soon as I looked at her facial expression of distaste. "Actually, n-nevermind, it's not that impor-", "No it's alright, we can discuss what's been on your mind, whilst having breakfast, shall we?"
Not knowing whether to accept the suggestion, seeming as though it wasn't genuine, and my concerns would be swept under the rud once again.
I could only hope that my concerns would be heard, and even maybe they would accept that I just wanted what was best for me. But I could only hope for the best as I stepped down the very last step and followed my mother through the kitchen entrance, as a glance was shared between my parents, and the discussion, once again began " Dear, our son would like to discuss some things that have been bothering him, I've told him we can talk about it whilst having breakfast, would that be alright with you?" My mother asked, with a simple nod of the head from my father, I gradually and hesitantly began.