My mother was a very romantic person. As far as I can remember, she used to sit on her desk and write.
She always read Jane Austen books, looking out the window that shows colorful buildings, tall buildings that almost reached the clouds.
She would look at her journal, open it and write, she would keep writing for hours.
I always wondered what she has written.
Is it love letters to the mystery lover? Is it a normal journal? Or just book notes?
I couldn't really tell, I was 14...
Now I'm 22...
9 years have passed since I've seen my mom.
She passed away in a car accident in North Carolina. She was buried there. Where she was born, and after her death, you can say that I've been living in hell!!
My dad wouldn't let me go far away from home. He wouldn't let me live my life the way I wanted. All because he is afraid of loosing me like mom.
He wouldn't even let me experience love, or know how it feels.
He always believed that all men are just bad. That they would trick me, and waste all my life and what I have, for nothing, or even worse. Kidnap me.
To be honest...
I wanted to be kidnapped for a day, just to know what freedom felt like...
My everyday life is just, go to college and go back home, and that's it.
It was a prison.
Even my friends are bad influence to me (according to dad).
All of my friends wouldn't speak to me no more, because they know that dad doesn't trust them and that was disrespectful.
And they did not stick around when I needed them most.
My dad is a very difficult man to live with.
He would come back from work and yell at me for no reason. "After what I did for you... College, money, clothes, a free food, free home, and you still wanna live alone? Be grateful for once in your life" every single day, I have to hear this.
" I am not 15 anymore dad. I have grown up, and soon I'll be working, get married and have my own kids. You can't keep living like this forever" every single day, I have to repeat this.
And as always. He wouldn't listen.
I can run away and move somewhere else, but I couldn't just leave like this. I still have 3 weeks left in college and I'll finish and get the hell out of here.
After another argue with him, I had to go to my room crying...
I am suffocated...
I need to breath...
I need to fly...
After whipping my tears, I went to mom's room and saw her desk.
There was a huge book that I never got to read.
As I opened it, I found a small book inside of it.
It turned out that her journal was here all this time.
Now I must know what she has written.
As I opened the first page, it said.
To my dear Derek,