How far is too far?
I knew this world was unfair, but I must explain my utter dislike for ignorant people that think they get their fun out of controlling and abusing someone that loves them. The fact that they can still sleep at night and wake up in the morning with a smile on their face after they’ve made their loved ones life a living hell makes me utterly sick. The reason I’m writing this is because I can’t say it out loud, nor to the certain people I want to express these feelings too.
I met a boy three years ago. He was the manager of the girl tennis team at my high school when I was a sophomore, and we immediately hit it off. Instant friends. This boy is so fun to be around, so happy…or so I thought.
Three years later I find out it’s a façade, a shield that he has made so people don’t find out what’s really going on when he goes home. It made sense, all the clubs he was involved in, all the hours spent at school even after classes were over. He didn’t want to go home. And now I understand why.
He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s going to Pakistan to visit his fading grandmother that he hasn’t seen in fifteen some odd years. His parents have already told him he can’t bring photo ID; if it were discovered he was an American he would be abducted and held for ransom by terrorists in the next town. What kind of morbid people would let their son go to a country by himself when he could possibly never return?
The relationship with his parents has always been strained, so he has told me. They talk down to him like he is insufficient to their expectations, that he somehow isn’t good enough. Let me tell you something, they’re not f***in’ good enough to have him in their lives. They told him he was fat, he’s only a 110 pounds. Their badgering and low comments caused him to become bulimic. He said he hasn’t done it in a few months, but he still doesn’t eat very much.
This past year he came out to me and told me he was gay. Which I had absolutely no problem with. It hasn’t ever made me look at him any differently in any way. I love him for who he is. But his family isn’t as accepting. When he finally came out to them on his 18th birthday they were furious. They tore apart his room, literally. They ripped up photos of friends, yearbooks from the last ten years of school, personal letters, they took his phone away, they ripped up his magazines and his books and threw out his clothes, they took away his computer, they took away his life.
He ran away that night, went downtown into the city to stay with a friend that goes to Columbia. His sister started calling to see where he was, he hadn’t called any of his friends because his parents had taken his cell phone. She informed us that his mother was in the hospital being treated for a heart attack. His family finally found him and dragged him home, the girl he was staying with called the police and the squad cars met him at his house in Hanover Park. They asked him if he was being held against his will. He was forced to say no by his family, they had given him the guilt trip and he was too run down emotionally to fight it.
He was cut off from his friend for almost three weeks. There wasn’t a morning I woke up when I didn’t worry, didn’t wonder what they did to him, how they were treating him. He finally called one night and told me everything that had happened. I was too hysterical at first; I was sad but at the same time relieved to hear from him.
He told me that the only way he was calling me was due to the fact that he had hidden the letter I had given him before he graduated. I wrote my number down just in case, and that simple gesture turned out to make a difference. One other and my own were the only contacts he had.
I finally got to take him out, I went to pick him up and he came out to the car annoyed. He told me I had to meet his parents; otherwise they wouldn’t let him leave. I agreed reluctantly. I’ve never met these people, ever. But I went in hating them; in my mind I disliked them for hurting him in ways I’m sure they knew they were and at the same time didn’t. I hated them for breaking him. I forced myself to be nice, for his sake. They told me to understand; they told me they loved him very much. It was bullsh*t. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake my head in disgust and tell them I had absolutely no respect for them and I never would. He stood there with his head down, having no choice in the situation.
Last night we went out to eat with two other friends, we were having a great time. It was the last time in months that we would be together. Kyle was going to Arizona for college, Gina was going to the city, he was going to Pakistan for three months, and I was going to college for a few years. It was the last time we would have together as high school students, as friends, as innocent teenagers. But after thinking about it – are we innocent? After all the thoughts and feeling due to this situation and others, are we really innocent?
I doubt that now.
I caught him looking at me yesterday, at dinner. There was no smile, no laugh, nothing, just a blank stare. He was trying to take it all in, to make the situation stick to memory, to remember that night when all the other memories just wouldn’t do. I could tell he was sad, he doesn’t want to go. And the fact is, I don’t want him too.
I’ve tried so hard in last few months to make him smile, and it feels really good when it works. One night when I drove him home he thanked me, he told me he hadn’t smiled and laughed like that in weeks, since we’d last seen each other. I didn’t want it to be true, but I knew it was.
We were supposed to go out tonight, but his parents wouldn’t let him. His entire family showed up and he couldn’t leave.
You know, there’s a saying that friends come and go but family is forever. That’s bullshi*. Whoever made that quote up has never seen a friend hurt. He told his family straight out that we (his friends) have been more of a family to him than they have. Besides, whoever said that friends couldn’t be family? Whoever said that family was always loyal and loving? This isn’t the Brady Bunch, there’s no breaks, no everlasting happiness.
This bothers the hell out of me, everyday. Because I want so much to help him, but there is only so much I can do, and it’s never going to be enough.
His parents want him to go to Iowa to run a hotel they’re buying. He’s going to Iowa State to study hospitality instead of his original major of teaching. They want him away from his friends, for good.
They control his life by using his weakness against him. Guilt.
There’s really nothing else I can say, I can’t put what I feel for his family into words. It’s a different culture, that much I know, and I don’t understand the things they do at times. But since when is love defined differently in any culture? Love is what it is, you can’t pretend. They say that they love him, but I wonder if they do. I’m sure they have some love for him, like family love. But this is a different kind of love, it’s respect, understanding, acceptance.
I feel like I have no answers, like things just keep happening that cause more questions.
But one thing I do know. I love him.
I knew this world was unfair, but I must explain my utter dislike for ignorant people that think they get their fun out of controlling and abusing someone that loves them. The fact that they can still sleep at night and wake up in the morning with a smile on their face after they’ve made their loved ones life a living hell makes me utterly sick. The reason I’m writing this is because I can’t say it out loud, nor to the certain people I want to express these feelings too.
I met a boy three years ago. He was the manager of the girl tennis team at my high school when I was a sophomore, and we immediately hit it off. Instant friends. This boy is so fun to be around, so happy…or so I thought.
Three years later I find out it’s a façade, a shield that he has made so people don’t find out what’s really going on when he goes home. It made sense, all the clubs he was involved in, all the hours spent at school even after classes were over. He didn’t want to go home. And now I understand why.
He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s going to Pakistan to visit his fading grandmother that he hasn’t seen in fifteen some odd years. His parents have already told him he can’t bring photo ID; if it were discovered he was an American he would be abducted and held for ransom by terrorists in the next town. What kind of morbid people would let their son go to a country by himself when he could possibly never return?
The relationship with his parents has always been strained, so he has told me. They talk down to him like he is insufficient to their expectations, that he somehow isn’t good enough. Let me tell you something, they’re not f***in’ good enough to have him in their lives. They told him he was fat, he’s only a 110 pounds. Their badgering and low comments caused him to become bulimic. He said he hasn’t done it in a few months, but he still doesn’t eat very much.
This past year he came out to me and told me he was gay. Which I had absolutely no problem with. It hasn’t ever made me look at him any differently in any way. I love him for who he is. But his family isn’t as accepting. When he finally came out to them on his 18th birthday they were furious. They tore apart his room, literally. They ripped up photos of friends, yearbooks from the last ten years of school, personal letters, they took his phone away, they ripped up his magazines and his books and threw out his clothes, they took away his computer, they took away his life.
He ran away that night, went downtown into the city to stay with a friend that goes to Columbia. His sister started calling to see where he was, he hadn’t called any of his friends because his parents had taken his cell phone. She informed us that his mother was in the hospital being treated for a heart attack. His family finally found him and dragged him home, the girl he was staying with called the police and the squad cars met him at his house in Hanover Park. They asked him if he was being held against his will. He was forced to say no by his family, they had given him the guilt trip and he was too run down emotionally to fight it.
He was cut off from his friend for almost three weeks. There wasn’t a morning I woke up when I didn’t worry, didn’t wonder what they did to him, how they were treating him. He finally called one night and told me everything that had happened. I was too hysterical at first; I was sad but at the same time relieved to hear from him.
He told me that the only way he was calling me was due to the fact that he had hidden the letter I had given him before he graduated. I wrote my number down just in case, and that simple gesture turned out to make a difference. One other and my own were the only contacts he had.
I finally got to take him out, I went to pick him up and he came out to the car annoyed. He told me I had to meet his parents; otherwise they wouldn’t let him leave. I agreed reluctantly. I’ve never met these people, ever. But I went in hating them; in my mind I disliked them for hurting him in ways I’m sure they knew they were and at the same time didn’t. I hated them for breaking him. I forced myself to be nice, for his sake. They told me to understand; they told me they loved him very much. It was bullsh*t. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake my head in disgust and tell them I had absolutely no respect for them and I never would. He stood there with his head down, having no choice in the situation.
Last night we went out to eat with two other friends, we were having a great time. It was the last time in months that we would be together. Kyle was going to Arizona for college, Gina was going to the city, he was going to Pakistan for three months, and I was going to college for a few years. It was the last time we would have together as high school students, as friends, as innocent teenagers. But after thinking about it – are we innocent? After all the thoughts and feeling due to this situation and others, are we really innocent?
I doubt that now.
I caught him looking at me yesterday, at dinner. There was no smile, no laugh, nothing, just a blank stare. He was trying to take it all in, to make the situation stick to memory, to remember that night when all the other memories just wouldn’t do. I could tell he was sad, he doesn’t want to go. And the fact is, I don’t want him too.
I’ve tried so hard in last few months to make him smile, and it feels really good when it works. One night when I drove him home he thanked me, he told me he hadn’t smiled and laughed like that in weeks, since we’d last seen each other. I didn’t want it to be true, but I knew it was.
We were supposed to go out tonight, but his parents wouldn’t let him. His entire family showed up and he couldn’t leave.
You know, there’s a saying that friends come and go but family is forever. That’s bullshi*. Whoever made that quote up has never seen a friend hurt. He told his family straight out that we (his friends) have been more of a family to him than they have. Besides, whoever said that friends couldn’t be family? Whoever said that family was always loyal and loving? This isn’t the Brady Bunch, there’s no breaks, no everlasting happiness.
This bothers the hell out of me, everyday. Because I want so much to help him, but there is only so much I can do, and it’s never going to be enough.
His parents want him to go to Iowa to run a hotel they’re buying. He’s going to Iowa State to study hospitality instead of his original major of teaching. They want him away from his friends, for good.
They control his life by using his weakness against him. Guilt.
There’s really nothing else I can say, I can’t put what I feel for his family into words. It’s a different culture, that much I know, and I don’t understand the things they do at times. But since when is love defined differently in any culture? Love is what it is, you can’t pretend. They say that they love him, but I wonder if they do. I’m sure they have some love for him, like family love. But this is a different kind of love, it’s respect, understanding, acceptance.
I feel like I have no answers, like things just keep happening that cause more questions.
But one thing I do know. I love him.
, but they are so wrong.