My Dream vs. My Parents’ Dream

 

        All I want is to be free—free to make my own choices, free to chase the dream that has been burning inside me for as long as I can remember. All I want is to be a doctor, to save lives, to feel purpose in every heartbeat I touch. But here I am, constantly being told what my next step should be. You decide everything: the dorm I live in, the school I attend, the course I take. I obey, every time, because the thought of disappointing you is unbearable. And it hurts.

        I dream of wearing the lab coat, of standing in the operating room, of healing with my own hands. But instead, I wear a suit, defending people in court—because that’s what our family does. We are a family of lawyers, and I’m expected to carry that legacy forward, to pass it on to the next generation. You say it’s tradition, but to me, it feels like a prison, one that suffocates me more each day.

        A year goes by, and I’m at the school you chose, taking the course you wanted. And then, I pass the bar exam. You are proud. So proud. I top the exam, I become the lawyer you always envisioned. The world sees me as a success. My name becomes known throughout the country, and I win cases that make headlines. People look at me with admiration. They see the achievements, the victories. But they don’t see me.

        In the quiet of my room, I lie down, ready to sleep—not just for rest, but to escape. Because in my dreams, I’m not a lawyer. In my dreams, I am a doctor, performing surgeries, saving lives. In my dreams, I am everything I wanted to be. I don’t want to wake up, because when I do, the dream dies. It’s the only time I get to live the life I wish I could have.

        I regret obeying you, but I didn’t have a choice. Every day I wake up as a lawyer, I feel the weight of that regret. The years I’ve spent in this role are not what I wanted. They’re not me. My dream was to become a doctor, and now it’s nothing more than a daydream I’ll never fulfill.