Chapter 1

I have always wondered why parents treat their kids like shit or control their whole life. Even if the child turns eighteen, parents still control them and decide for them without their permission.

 Haven’t you thought the same? Because I think about it every day.

They think that they are helping us, but in reality they are ruining us with their pressure even more, mentally and physically.

That’s what’s happening to me right now. My parents are very strict when it comes to grades. I mean they are Balkan parents in fact. They moved to the U.S. when the Yugoslavian War in 1991 began, because my mom’s biggest dream was to live in the U.S., specifically in Florida, and to raise their children there.

 It was her worst mistake because, here in Florida, it’s difficult to get a job as an immigrant. After a lot of years of struggling, she and my dad still made it to learn English and got good paying jobs, and also got two kids, which they probably regret. They don’t regret my older sister though. 

My sister, Natalia, studied at a big medical university, and now she is a nurse, working every day for nine hours or more. I can tell she has changed by her behavior, she seems very tired and drained out.

Me, on the other hand, I still can’t decide what university I want to study at, but I definitely know I want to get an Art degree. I know my parents wouldn’t like that because they think being an artist isn’t a real job. That’s what I think, at least I haven’t told them yet until I finally got the courage to tell them…

I went downstairs where my parents were drinking their usual black coffee in the morning and I sat next to my mom. 

 ,,Mom, Dad, I have to tell you something.” I said, nervously waiting for a response.

My mom replies, looking at me ,,What is it honey? Have you finally decided on a university?”, I get even more nervous when my dad’s eyes meet mine, even though I am more afraid of my mom than him. 

Then I said ,,I want to go to Art university mom and dad.”, my mom shakes her head with disbelief in her eyes and was about to speak but got cut off by my dad ,,Anastasia, you aren’t being serious are you?”, I can feel his anger in his voice pick up and my mom waiting for my response terrified, and I hate when he uses my full name. I like to go by Stacy, but my parents don’t understand why I would change my beautiful name into such an ugly name as Stacy, but somehow I like the name in a way. I took a deep breath and finally the words came out of my very dehydrated mouth ,,I’m being serious.”
Silence.