"I'm idealistic. So sue me."
There's this latent but potentially explosive conflict going on between me and my parental units.But it couldn't be easier to explain:
THEIR POSITION: I seek emigration and live my life abroad. The sooner, the better.
MY POSITION: No freaking way.
At every opportunity they get, they drive my nose in how it's SO MUCH BETTER to work and live abroad; that life here is so crappy; and that the whole country's going down the drain. There's no hope left so I gotta go abandon ship like all sane and normal people.
Of course, they say this because they care for me and want what's best for their daughter. (And if I do go that way, I just might be able to petition for them and take them with me. Makes you wonder for just a bit, doesn't it? But I digress...)
There are a lot of things in my life that I DON'T have a full grasp on.
But I DO know 2 things:
1. I'll never go to law school.
2. I'll never migrate to another country.
Sure, I might work or study abroad for a while. But never to leave for good. (Some people might think I'm just bullshitting with what I'm going to say after this. But who cares what they think?)
The thought of leaving for good sickens me. And that feeling extends to those who believe it's the only way. I'll state my reasons later. But let me briefly list just what "they" have as their reasons for leaving:
a corrupt government,
a lame-ass excuse for an economy,
a shitty judicial system,
and let's not even get started on the police and armed forces...
Of course! What person in their right mind would choose to stay in such sorry conditions?!?!
I would.
Why? As opposed to the abovementioned, I only have one:
Regardless if it's yours or not, if there's shit in the house, you stay and clean it up.
I'm reminded of the time when I was into mudpies and sand cakes. We'd make those things in the yard and be just about as happy as any 7-year old can be. Then we'd take them inside the house. You can imagine the horror of my mother when she sees all that dirt in her living room.
Most of my playmates would all conveniently remember that they have to go home. Only one chose to stay to clean up the mess. And even now, despite the fact we never see each other anymore, I consider her one of my best friends.
Because she chose to stay.
I probably would make a better, if not more "successful" life out there. Get married, have 2 dogs, have 1.2 kids, and have a 5-figure dollar annual income.
But is that the only thing that matters?
If my answer was yes, this essay would have never been written.
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