Member-only story
DEADLY ANGER
My Few-Minute Liminal Existence At 16
Anger against my mom almost killed me
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When I got my driver’s license at sixteen, the legal age for a teenager to drive a car alone in California, my mother bought me a mini-motorcycle. It was a cheaper option than getting me a car.
Thanks to this mini-motorcycle that could drive up to 55 mph, I tasted freedom for the first time in my life. I could finally go to my high school, our downtown, other downtowns, supermarkets, and previously unexplored areas by myself instead of being driven around by my mother, to whom I had nothing to say. Whenever I was in her car, I just wanted to get out of it as soon as possible.
That mini-motorcycle gave me the disconnection from my mom that I desperately desired. I hated living with her so much that I even went to the library to find books to find out the legal age at which a child can disown a parent. She was hardly present in my life before I was fifteen and a half years old. And she didn’t even like me. It was beyond my understanding why she suddenly wanted me to live with her.
So, having my hair blown around as I rode through travel with my “horse” gave me the needed prison break; it was liberating and…
