I was happy. I was fine with life. Couldn’t you have let me stay that way? For just a while?

Happiness. It was in my reach, merely a week ago. I used to dislike living. I used to complain and moan about things of no significance. I was unhappy, but without a real reason to be. And I knew that. I knew that my unhappiness was uncalled for and most of all: selfish. There were people out there going through real pain, people who had actual reasons to feel this way. So I pulled it together and started focusing on all the positive things in life. My friends, my somewhat dysfunctional family whom I still loved and cared for, my somewhat normal life. I started feeling hope, and just… happiness. I was content. Sometimes I would just hold up for a second, and think “how great is my life right now. I’ve got so many reasons to be happy, and that I am”. I was, sort of. Until 2 days ago. My mom started off by ranting on me, and how I am. They were never happy with how I turned out, their beautiful first born, where did they go wrong? But I didn’t really care, it hurts, but I’m used to it. My hope had always been that when I’m 18, I’m gonna go off to college, live a more private, normal life. Have more friends, go to parties, be happy. And then, well then I was gonna find the love of my life, we would marry, have kids and live happily ever after. A life free of drama, free of being miserable. When I turned 18. My lovely mom informed me however that that will not be the case. I feel so trapped. Like my entire life is predetermined for me, like I have no choice over the direction it has. I feel like I will be unhappy for the rest of my life. Right now I’m wondering if I’ll ever be happy again. I’m thinking… will I have the guts to run away? To just take my clothes and vanish from this life, one day? I don’t know how I would survive. With no money, nowhere to go… but I know that I will not be miserable, so my parents can be happy. I refuse. I’d rather die.