I Can’t Leave.

A beautiful view of a suburban neighborhood.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trapped.

I just feel that way. I want to leave. Really bad. But I can’t. They’re my family and I need to make sure they’re okay before I go. I wasn’t always like this though. I was such an angry child; always slamming doors and yelling ‘I don’t care’ and letting my sarcasm run wild. And she hated that. She really hated my sarcasm. It was rude and not right and showed that I didn’t have any house training. What is that? House training? I’ve never heard anyone else say that. Except for her; at me. Sigh.

People from around here don’t talk like that.Then again, we are not from around here. God, there are so many things that I want to run away from. But I can’t. These things make up who I am; they are where I am from and are what make up my heritage and my background. Assimilation isn’t an easy thing to do when you have to always come home. Which is why I want to leave. I’m tired. I know, it sounds weird, a little messed up and maybe even rude. I know. See, the thing is, I kind of don’t care…. though. I am just tired. 

I need a break. I need to see something else. I need to meet other types of people. I need to hear a different accent. I so desperately want to eat other types of food. I just need a break. I am tired. But she doesn’t get that. Not in this sense. She’s making it seem like I’m ashamed of where I’m from. I’m not. I don’t like our people, yes. At all. That is the truth. But that’s based on my past experiences, so I can’t really say that about the nearly 200 million other people that make up my ethnic group. So, yeah, I don’t like to relate or talk to, or party with or be seen with others, fine. That doesn’t mean I hate or am ashamed of my motherland. It doesn’t.
I like our food. That’s something. Even though I could go for something different every once in while these last couple of decades. I’m just saying. And I love our music. I would totally play that, all day, everyday, in my own place. Absolutely. I would have to leave first, now wouldn’t I? Sigh. But I can’t. I can’t leave. Not yet anyway. They’re not stable yet. They’re not sound in their footing. 
I’m not bragging. It’s just the facts. Right now, they need me. I can just see it now; the chaos that would ensue if I left so abruptly. It would cause her pain, and sorrow, and she would cry herself to sleep for nights to come. But she is a strong and stubborn little woman. That stage wouldn’t last long. No, not with her. She would find a way to survive. She would pull through, and all would be right with the world again. 

But she would have a scar. A big, deep and ugly scar. One that she would see every time my name would be mentioned, or when I would stroll through her mind…. or when she’d look at me. She would claim she forgave, but no, not really. She would always remember. And I would never forget the consequences of her feeling that way. Her actions would speak loud and clear, and maybe I'd feel guilty. Maybe. Because I’m a strong and stubborn woman too. I’d throw it back at her, and her swing would hit it out of this stratosphere, and we would be okay again. Kind of. Interesting family relations, huh?

None of that will happen though. Because I have this stupid thing in my head and heart. What’s it called? Ah, yes…. a conscience. And so, because I can already see where things would go, generally speaking of course, sigh, I can’t leave.

Stop yourself right there!
I love my family. 

I’m just tired of being around them all the time. I’m the oldest, so I can’t assume my siblings feel the same way. Yet. I’ll give my brother another couple of years…. and my sister…. as soon as she gets her license. Yeah. As soon as that girl can legally drive, she’ll become non-existent in this house, real quick. But I can’t just leave her to deal with that, or any other thing that she - and the both of them - would have to take over from me, unarmed. Stupid conscience. 

So, as you see, I can’t leave.
Sigh.

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