People say life gets better as it moves forward, but in my case, life stays the same or becomes more stressful as each day go by. My earliest memory when my life stopped being so great was when I started sixth grade. I learned to have my own thoughts and opinions, but they were considered wrong. I realized that I had the right to make my own decision, but I was always bound to not my freedom, but my parents expectation; therefore, my life was not yet mine. And when I was strong enough to say at least what I should say, my parents threatened to send me away to a nun convent. They said because I have grown older, I have become rebellious and strong-headed, so sending me away to live with nuns will help me become a better person. I was only eleven, I didn’t know what to do, I only cried. And every time, because of one silly mistake, they would bring up the fact that I should have been sent away years ago. On top of that, they would pile up on my past mistakes to make me feel guilty, all the while forgetting all the goods I’ve accomplished. Life became fiery and the world…