The Things You Don't Know

There are a number of things that scare me. Things like losing my parents, failing an important exam, clowns, and being hated by someone I care deeply for. Though, even with all those things combined, there is something I am terrified of more than anything: the future, or rather, the things I don't know about it.

When a question like "what do you see yourself doing in ten years?" is posed, I hardly have time to think before I'm consumed by stress and breathing heavily. The truth is, what I do imagine myself doing in the future is entirely different from what the people around me have imagined.

Once upon a time, I was a naive six year old  whose parents had planted the classic 'doctor, engineer, or lawyer' trope in her head. I believed them when they said these three careers are everlasting. They saw the money, the respect, and the happy living. What I saw was completely the opposite. I saw long nights, crazy shifts, and an occupation I could never comprehend for myself.

When I was a kid, I didn't know what I wanted to be. It was never set-in-stone like it was with the other kids whose parents mine were friends with. Every introduction at a gathering began with, "This is Rida. Our eldest daughter. She is going to be a doctor."

Where was my say in that?

No one ever bothered to ask me what I wanted for myself. They only assumed my parents knew best.

The bitterness of it all is that my parents don't know me at all. They think they do, almost like every parent does, but they don't really. I've tested this theory on countless occasions and they have always let me down.

It begins with my birthday, something of which my father can never recall. He knows it's in the summer, but not the exact month or day. Neither one of my parents have any idea that I write. I mentioned once to my mother that I hit over a million reads on Wattpad with a story I began writing at age fifteen and she was happy for me for all of two seconds before she received a text and that was it for me.

And the worst part?

The hobbies I do have, I have to hide from them because if my father knew that I enjoyed fashion design, photography, or film-making, he'd be so disappointed. He hated it when I read as a kid (which shall be explained in another post) and to know that I now take part in "foolish things that will never lead me to a respectable career," he would probably make a joke out of me for the rest of my life. I have to hide my books from him, pretend as if I don't like reading any longer and am more interested in my education now (as if math or science could ever be more interesting than a Jane Austen novel).

My interests, my hobbies and my strengths don't mean a thing when it comes to my future because as much as I would adore the chance to write a novel or a screenplay, or design a new line of clothing, or be a part of a photoshoot, everything that I am leads me back to who my parents have always made me out to be: a success made from the seeds of failure.

I don't know how to tell them I am not a piece on their chess board and they can't move me around as they deem fit. Where they might have dreamed about performing surgeries, saving lives, and fighting court cases, I dream about writing novels, making films, and being a part of something greater.

Whatever my future holds, I hope it's good. I hope I achieve these things I wish to be and prove to my parents that I didn't make a fool of myself. I hope I make them happy and have them say, "we're proud of you," even if it's just once.