When I was little, my parents always told me that I was going to be the most perfect son out there. That I was going to top all other sons from any other family; even the ones from the rich families. I never really did say anything because, well, I was very young and what was I supposed to say about that? But every time I would lay in bed every night, I always thought about what my parents would tell me. I mean, I was little so I didn’t know exactly what they meant, but somehow I felt like I didn’t want to be what they were asking from me. It wouldn’t bug me a lot, but when my parents began to bring it up all the time at dinner time or even when we were watching television, it seriously was annoying to the point that I wanted to pull my hair out and scream. I didn’t want to be a prefect son…I didn’t want any popularity or anything like that…but…would they ever listen? 

     Around the age of 10, my mother decided I was ready to learn the violin to which I had opposed so many times, but she always ignored. I never really did get a saying in anything my parents decided for me. I began playing the violin very poorly and my mother would always hit my small, white palms with one of the rulers she had in her desk. I hated playing the violin. I never even wanted to play it, but like I said, I never got a saying. Around the time I turned 12, my violin skills were beyond amazement to not only my instructor, but even my mother; even my father loved the way I played the violin even though he didn’t care what I played because he wasn’t interested in music. All he cared about was his business, but I was fine with it. 

     By middle school, my mother had forced me to join many different contests and she always expected me to win first place. Of course, me being the good son, I tried my whole best, which led me to winning almost every gold medal out there for violin contests. The only time I had lost was when I had hurt my finger while playing the song, which led to the string braking, and my mother was so furious with me that day. She didn’t want to do anything with me, and kept me locked up in my room until she was ready to see me. Because of that time, I tried even harder which led to me practicing over-time until I couldn’t handle it anymore. Even when I would finish my practice and head to bed, I couldn’t sleep no matter how tired I was.

     Once I started high school, I thought my parents were going to let me have a little bit of independency and privacy. That’s what I always thought, and to be honest, I couldn’t wait to be in high school. That all shattered apart, though, when my parents became even more strict with me and my high school life. They literally didn’t want me to do anything outside of school unless they were part of it or the teachers were a part of it. I seriously hated it so much. Sometimes, I would be jealous of the younger me since I always thought I had a tiny bit more freedom back then. 

     I’m in my final year of high school, and though I should be excited about it, I’m not. Knowing the fact that my parents are always going to be behind my back, there is nothing fun about Senior year for me. In fact, every day of my life has never been fun nor memorable. 

     It’s the first day of Senior year and I slowly wake myself up without the alarm going off. Once again, I wake up 30 minutes before the alarm does. Rubbing my eyes slowly, I get off my bed and head to the bathroom. Before anything, I shut the door and lock it. I look at myself in the mirror for a few minutes and analyze every feature on my face. There were surely bags under my eyes from the lack of sleep I had been getting lately, and there was pure…emptiness. Every time I would look at my face I always saw a 17-year-old boy with no feelings. A boy who had nothing inside of him; only emptiness. I turned the faucet on before looking away from the mirror and splashed water on my face. The water was cold. 

     Once I finished washing my face, I grabbed a towel and dried my face before unlocking the door and heading out to my bedroom to see my mother smiling while crossing her arms. I looked over her to see my uniform, perfectly ironed with not a single crease seen, and walked forward before placing the towel on my shoulder. My mother stepped to the side a little, which gave me the sign of grabbing the uniform and putting it on. As I took the white shirt out of the blue jacket, I looked over to my mother who was still watching me with a smile plastered on her face. She urged me to continue in which I obliged silently. 

     To be honest, I hated when my mother was in my bedroom watching me undress. She was very blind when it came to privacy. I don’t even think the word “privacy” existed in her world. Once I had fully dressed into my uniform, my mother walked up to me and fixed some small folds here and there before placing her hands on my cheeks. She put on a big smile.

     “Youngjae-ah…I’m so proud of you.” she said as she rubbed her right thumb on my cheek bone. “I just knew you were going to be the perfect son here in Seoul.” 

     I didn’t say anything, which made my mother retract her hands from my face and walking to the door before looking at me again. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” she said as she left. I closed the door and walked over to my desk, grabbing my school bag out of the small space on the bottom of my desk. I placed my school supplies as well as my cellphone in the bag before heading down to where the kitchen was at. My mother was already starting on cooking breakfast when my father came out, fully dressed, with his suitcase in his left hand. He walked over to my mother and kissed her on the cheek before walking over to me and smiling. Me and my father didn’t really have a strong relationship. I don’t even think my mother and I had one either. 

     “You’re up early, Youngjae-ah.” My father said as he opened up the recent newspaper. I didn’t say anything and this made him slowly put the newspaper down. He looked at me sternly. “You’re supposed to respond, Youngjae-ah.” 

     “I woke up 30 minutes earlier,” I said as I firmly looked him in the eyes. Those emotionless eyes of his. “I couldn’t sleep anymore.” 

     And once again, he lifted the newspaper and continued reading the recent news. By that time, my mother was done with one plate of breakfast and gave it to my father. A few minutes later, she gave me my plate before serving herself and sitting down on the chair. Before anything, my mother thanked the Lord for the food and said some other stuff. When we finished with that, we began eating…silently. I was picking at my eggs before my mother spoke up to me.

     “Are you excited for the first day of Senior year?”

     “I guess,” I said which resulted in a small grunt from my father. I knew what that meant; he was disliking my attitude I was returning to my mother. I set the fork down before looking at my mother who was looking at me nonchalantly. “I think I’m going to have a…fun year…” 

     “That’s good,” she said before grabbing a piece of egg and putting it in . At this point I wasn’t in the mood to eat the rest of my breakfast. 

     Right after breakfast was done, my father had left for work and my mother decided to drop me off at school. Usually, our housekeeper would drop me off, but since my mother had insisted, the housekeeper didn’t say anything. I was a little disappointed when my mother told me she was going to drop me off. To be honest, I felt more better when the housekeeper would drop me off because she always supported me in everything I would do. She would even encourage me to join clubs and whatnot, but how could I when I had two people known as my parents under my shoes the whole time? The car ride to my school wasn’t that long, but to me it did. One thing I hated about being in the same car with either my mother or my father or worst, both of them, I always felt like I was suffocating inside. I just wanted to jump out of the car any minute and run away from the suffocation. 

     By the time my mother stopped the car in front of the school gates, I was already opening the door when she grabbed my wrist. I let my hang go from the door handle and looked at her. She had a stern face on and I could tell she was going to tell me the “speech” again like she always did every first day of school. 

     “Youngjae-ah, I want you to know that even though it’s your last year of high school, it doesn’t mean that you can do whatever you want,” she said which made me want to roll my eyes, but didn’t. “I expect you to do very well in your classes. I don’t ever want to be called by the principle and him telling me that my son has gotten into trouble because I will surely do something Youngjae-ah.” Every time she said that sentence, I always shivered. “And I most definitely don’t want you to hang out with any of those type of…things they call as delinquents.” I nod slowly at her sentence before grabbing the handle door again and waiting for her to let go of my wrist. 

     “I need to go,” I said as I continued to wait for her to let go of my wrist. My mother kept looking into my eyes before letting my wrist go and looking out the window.

     “Or dating anyone,” she said right after I had closed the door on her.