It’s not because I’m a 16 year old girl.
Dear Parents,
I’m not mad because you won’t let me go to a movie an hour away with just my friend. I don’t care. I mean yeah I guess it does piss me off a little bit, but that’s not why I get so upset. I get upset because you act like I’m never allowed to feel any emotion but happy gratitude, like I’m supposed to bow down to you and understand why you do everything you do. You don’t seem to get that. Yeah, you’ve kept me alive my whole life, but the cost for that has been my actual oppurtunity to live. I hear all these kids tell all their stories about the things they’ve done, but all I have to tell are YOUR stories. I don’t have any of my own stories. I’ve been kept on too short of a leash. You can say that you’re just trying to protect me, but it’s like you’re not letting me live because I might die. Maybe it is because I’m a teenager that I feel this way, maybe one day I guess I’ll understand, but I don’t think I’ve lived enough to even begin to.
