I stomp my feet up the stairs and head to my bedroom. My mother trails behind me. “Honey, please just talk to me. I want to discuss this with you.” “Mom, I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.” “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” I arrive at my door and proceed into my room and turn around to face my mother. “What do you want to talk about? You’re the worst parent and holding me hostage in my own house. I wish I had different parents.” I slam my door in her face and chuck my backpack against the wall. I then text all my friends about my situation and they all agree with me. My parents are being totally unfair. I look at the lamp sitting on my dresser. Suddenly angered, I pick up the lamp and throw it with everything in me against …show more content…
My parents died. I regret wishing they weren’t my parents. I regret breaking my lamp. I regret arguing with them and letting them leave me. I just wish I had my parents back. If only I could start over and tell them that I respect their decision to keep me home. I would tell them I would stay home and spend time with them. I would say to them that I love them and will spend weekends at home instead of going out. If only I could start over and not let them leave me. If only I could start over and thank them for everything they have given me . If only I could start over and be more appreciative of my parents. If only I could start over...
And just like that, things go black. Moments later, I wake up. As I begin to sit up, I look down at the comforters and around the room. This is my room. Not my room at my Uncle and Aunt’s house, but my room. The one in Beverly Hills that I thought I left behind when my parents died. That means if I’m here, my parents never went to Trinidad and they didn’t die. That means that I never left my friends behind and moved to Utah. That means I never got a job and had to sell all of my clothes. That means it was all a