I find myself, now, realizing too late how much my mother really cared for me.
When I was a kid, I always thought her only purpose was to oppress me. She told me not to throw my toys because I could hurt someone— but how else would Buzz Lightyear fly? She was stup!d; she made rules for no reason; she just h8ed me, I would think.
How wrong I was.
When I became a teenager I began to get into more secretive trouble. At school I was a good kid. I got straight As, teachers loved me even if I skipped class occasionally. Outside of school, I got dr\/nk, made bets I couldn’t keep and st0le things to make up for it; one time I got h!gh and came back to the house, stumbling over my feet and words, and when my mom saw me the only thing she said was, “are you okay?”
When I woke up the next morning I was surprised to find myself tucked into bed, a glass of water on my bedside table and a little note beneath it.
The note said, “be careful with your life. I want it to be longer than mine: I want you to live it in every way your future self would wish.”
At the time I tossed the note into an old binder, not wanting to throw away her kindness since she’d been nice enough not to punish me for staying out too late and coming back obviously under the influence of dr\/gs. Later that night she served dinner and asked how school went and I ended up asking her why she hadn’t punished me.
“Life is the hardest thing you’ll do,” she’d told me. It sounded stup!d, then. “Please don’t get yourself into this life of dr\/gs, now. You’re so young. Live like it!”
I had scoffed and rolled my eyes at her and nodded my head. That very afternoon was when my friend and I decided to go out and sm0ke by the highway.
It was fun; I was lightheaded. We passed in and out of consciousness and the lateness of the night dragged on, before eventually, as the sun began to rise for the next morning, my friend decided we should drive home.
The next thing I knew, I was in the ER. Part of the dashboard had impaled my left shoulder— I was lucky to live.
My friend, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
I’m writing this essay not to make some stranger reading it feel bad but to apologize. My mother, now broke from paying my hospital bills, had been right. I wish I had listened to her advice. Now, I’m without my best friend; without my left arm; without my mother’s trust; without a sure fire future to head to.
I still crave another sm0ke, to calm myself down. But if there’s one thing I’ll make sure of, it’s that I’ll never disregard my mother’s words again.
These sorts of lives, made easy with ignorance gifted by dr\/gs and alc0h0l, all end the same way— how mine almost ended. I plan on living a bright, clean, and sober future, providing for my mother everything I can.
(This essay has nothing to do with my actual life but I hope it works! Also sorry for some reason this app makes me censor like every word.)
When I was a kid, I always thought her only purpose was to oppress me. She told me not to throw my toys because I could hurt someone— but how else would Buzz Lightyear fly? She was stup!d; she made rules for no reason; she just h8ed me, I would think.
How wrong I was.
When I became a teenager I began to get into more secretive trouble. At school I was a good kid. I got straight As, teachers loved me even if I skipped class occasionally. Outside of school, I got dr\/nk, made bets I couldn’t keep and st0le things to make up for it; one time I got h!gh and came back to the house, stumbling over my feet and words, and when my mom saw me the only thing she said was, “are you okay?”
When I woke up the next morning I was surprised to find myself tucked into bed, a glass of water on my bedside table and a little note beneath it.
The note said, “be careful with your life. I want it to be longer than mine: I want you to live it in every way your future self would wish.”
At the time I tossed the note into an old binder, not wanting to throw away her kindness since she’d been nice enough not to punish me for staying out too late and coming back obviously under the influence of dr\/gs. Later that night she served dinner and asked how school went and I ended up asking her why she hadn’t punished me.
“Life is the hardest thing you’ll do,” she’d told me. It sounded stup!d, then. “Please don’t get yourself into this life of dr\/gs, now. You’re so young. Live like it!”
I had scoffed and rolled my eyes at her and nodded my head. That very afternoon was when my friend and I decided to go out and sm0ke by the highway.
It was fun; I was lightheaded. We passed in and out of consciousness and the lateness of the night dragged on, before eventually, as the sun began to rise for the next morning, my friend decided we should drive home.
The next thing I knew, I was in the ER. Part of the dashboard had impaled my left shoulder— I was lucky to live.
My friend, on the other hand, was not so lucky.
I’m writing this essay not to make some stranger reading it feel bad but to apologize. My mother, now broke from paying my hospital bills, had been right. I wish I had listened to her advice. Now, I’m without my best friend; without my left arm; without my mother’s trust; without a sure fire future to head to.
I still crave another sm0ke, to calm myself down. But if there’s one thing I’ll make sure of, it’s that I’ll never disregard my mother’s words again.
These sorts of lives, made easy with ignorance gifted by dr\/gs and alc0h0l, all end the same way— how mine almost ended. I plan on living a bright, clean, and sober future, providing for my mother everything I can.
(This essay has nothing to do with my actual life but I hope it works! Also sorry for some reason this app makes me censor like every word.)
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