Adult Fake in a Fake World.

At the age of 19, I understood the difficulties of the real world. I was coming back home from college when I received word from my dad that I had to go live in the United States with my mom because my brother was sick.
Although my brother was born with muscular dystrophy (a degenerative muscle disease), my parents tried to give us a kind of life like a normal family. My dad was the kind of dad that aimed to make us happy by giving us all we wanted. It was just a matter of asking for shall we say a curious unique toy, the latest novelty or a brand new wardrobe and my dad made it happen. It was until that day when my dad told me that I was not going to live in Mexico that I became confused. It was like if during my whole life I was living a dream. It was like all that I knew was about to change.
I used to have what I would call the “perfect life”. At the age of 19, I was living the life I had always wanted and was considered an adult in Mexico; however, my actions did not show that I was an adult. I was in my fourth semester of college and I had a lot of friends, I didn’t have to work because my dad could afford all the spending. I only had to worry about studying and to know where the partying would be at on the weekends. Also, my dad had just bought me a new car to go to college and my relationship with my new girlfriend was going well. In regards to money I didn’t have to worry because my dad and my two older sisters gave it to me. Everything in my life was going well, I felt like that stage of my life was going to last forever. My family spoiled me until the day they sent me to Los Angeles.
While I was enclosed in my own world, my family was deciding my life. That day when I came from school my dad was waiting on me with my sisters. My dad told me that he and my two sisters were talking about whom was going to live with my mom to United States and all agreed that the most adequate one would be me. My dad explained to me that none of my sisters could because both were married and they had to stay with their husbands. And my dad had to stay due to his job because someone has to support the family. I was big enough to understand his explanation, but that was not fair, they decided for my life like if I was not the owner of my own life. Maybe for them my life was not important because I was not working or maybe they felt they owned my life because they used to give me money. Whatever it was, my family never asked me what I wanted or at least my opinion. The scenario was as if the directors of a company had decided the future of an employee, or like if we were in the military and I was just receiving orders from my superior. That situation was nothing like a family having a conversation; it was like if the people I was living with during my whole life were now strangers to me.
Although the new city where I was moving to was just two hours away from where I was living, I was moving to a different country with a different language. When I finally moved to Los Angeles I didn’t know what to do with my life, I was still confused, and so I just decided to enroll in college and wait to see what happen in the future; but what I didn’t know was that my parents had other plans. My dad talked with me again and told me that I had to work because now we had to pay rent and with his salary from Mexico was not enough to afford all the expenses. I didn’t know how to ask for a job, I had never worked, and I thought that my parents were being unfair with me again. In school the situation couldn’t get worse; I was taking classes with a language that was not wholly understandable to me and the way that the teachers graded the assignments was strange for me and I was having bad grades.
Nothing in my life seemed to be well; I was complaining everyday about how miserable my life was now and talking about how great my life was when I was in Mexico. I spent the days just thinking how to go back to Mexico and take my old life back, but what I didn’t want to understand was that that life was lost because I never went back.
Sometimes I still asking to myself why I’m here or why I didn’t fought enough to go back, but then I realize that I’m wasting my time living in the past, living on my memories. I learn that sometimes in life we have to make sacrifices to help the people who are around us because maybe they made other kind of sacrifices for us in the past and now we owe that to them . Also, I realized that the real world is not like a movie with a happy end, in fact is the opposite. In the real world people have real problems like feed their children or pay rent, not like the kind of problems that I tough I have. Tough the scenario has not change much in the way that it was when I moved, now I’m more mature and I can understand why my parents made the decision of take me to Los Angeles. Now I am not a boy playing to be an adult in a fake world; I am a boy trying to be an adult in a real world.