Nothing is wrong with me. I’m okay, I’m fine. They can assume all they want, I couldn’t care less.

Liar. I push the thought away and I start to remove my clothes from my closet and shove them into the one of many boxes I had spread out on my floorboard. I can’t take any more of my parent’s judgment and I refuse to stay any longer. I’m twenty-one. I can make my own decisions. I suppose the only reason as to why I stayed in this house is because of the one family member that mattered most to me, my brother. I stayed this long to support him since I knew my mother and father wouldn’t, but I can’t take anymore. Two boxes are already filled with articles of clothing and all that’s left are books, many, many books.

Reading had easily become my favorite hobby. Since the age of seven, I’ve never had a group of friends who understood me, so I’ve always relied on the written friendships of my favorite characters from different novels to help me get a better understanding of what it was like to have a person or two share common interests with each other. The Harry Potter series, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, even Charlotte’s Web all contained friendships that both filled my need for socializing and the emptiness inside me. So when my parents assumed I was lonely and that something was mentally wrong with me, I ignored them and continued my journey through all the fictional adventures each book had to offer.

At five, my parents had put me in a private school where I had few "friends". Two years later, I'm put in a public school filled with chaotic children who ate glue and threw tantrums just for fun. I think that I was mature for my age back then. I didn't care for a turn on the swing set or for a game of soccer on the field. I preferred to be alone with whatever Dr. Seuss book my teacher had given the class to read. That was most likely a warning sign as to how my life would be like for the next nineteen years.

Today would be the last I’d ever hear from my parents. When I told them I had decided to move out, their faces showed no expression, but I saw a hint of glee in their eyes. I couldn’t believe that they had been satisfied with my decision, but maybe that was their goal. They had always mentioned my loneliness, my fear of socializing with a world that could reject me faster than I could walk out the door, in hopes that I’d confront the fear and become a part of society. That I’d finally leave. It didn’t matter to me though, if leaving home made them happy, then be it. I too would be happy once I was on my own.

I had no means of actual transportation other than a bicycle given to me three years ago by a close relative. I thought of the bike as more of a gag-type gift than a real present. I needed a way to take all the five boxes with me. I settled with tying a small wagon to the back of the bicycle with rope and hoping it wouldn’t disconnect. My brother helped with the boxes, laughing as we finished. He mentioned better alternatives of moving, but they all required the help of other people. It probably was the isolation I forced upon myself by reading that caused some sort of phobia of communication, but having to talk to people that I wasn’t close to, strangers, scared the living delights out of me. The option of having my father drive me to wherever I was going was a complete no, so a bicycle with a child-like wagon at the back was the next best thing.

I exchanged goodbyes with my brother, telling him to be good to our mother and father. He asked why I wanted to leave; I just responded with a sad smile and promised to tell him when a better time came. My parents called for their son to re-enter the home. As he closed the front gates, I was on my way. Another reason as to why I wouldn’t allow for my dad to drive me to where I was to stay was for the simple fact that I did not want him or my mother to constantly visit me as if I’d go mad one day and do something harmful to myself. That is if they’d even bother to care.

As I cycled my way through the city, I noticed things that, had I never chosen to stop living at home, I’d not get a chance to see. It was dusk, the horizon was in view with its various shades of red and purple with few clouds spread out like a painting. It was marvelous. I had my eyes on the bicycle lane, turning my head left and right every so often to glance at the many stores that were pressed together. Neon lights had illuminated small portions of the road; I was surprised that the city had such amazing sights to offer. As I thought about it, these streets, lights, and other wonders were a normal everyday spectacle for those who actually ventured the streets. What had been a whole new world for me was daily life for others.

I reached the end of the city, braking with my left foot and reaching into my back pocket for a folded piece of paper. I opened the paper and read the directions. I was about three miles away from my destination. It was dark, so I pedaled as fast as I could. I’d say that an hour and a half passed by before I stopped again, got off the bike, and walked forward. There was a stone pathway, trees and plants placed on either side of it. It got darker the further into the path I got, but there was a glow at the end. The more the glow was visible, the more I was sure that I was at the right place.

A small cottage-like home stood before me. Sounds of different insects and maybe a few wolves howling at most likely their next prey surrounded me. I untied the wagon from the bicycle and pulled it with me, laying the bike on the grassy floor. I reached a set of small stairs place in front of the home. Choosing to leave the wagon as well, I jogged up the short series of steps. The light from the front of the porch flickered on and off. The closer I walked towards the door, the more I was rethinking the whole idea of leaving home.

I gently tap the door twice and when no one answered; I knocked a little harder three more times. I waited for a few minutes before I heard the door open slowly.

“What in the world are you doing here?” A rough voice had asked.

I turned to face the person. I took in a deep breath and replied. “I’m ready to claim my inheritance.”

They smiled and stepped aside, signaling me to enter. “Welcome to your new home, Miss Taeyeon."

So I've had this story in mind for a while and decided to go on and write it. I hope you like it and stick around for the rest (: