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I've Got Problems

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After 13 years of schooling, I’ve come to the conclusion that I know very little. But, I also know that in admitting that, I do know a thing or two. One thing I do know— I begrudgingly admit— my mother is usually right (I say usually because I can’t give her too much satisfaction). I’m 17 years old; I really shouldn’t be realizing this until I have kids of my own, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. As I am standing at a major crossroads in my life, I can’t help and look back over everything that has happened so far. Nostalgia has taken over my mind as of late, and all I can do is think about long lost friends and times long ago. Reminiscing has drawn me to old diaries and boxes full of memories. As I read entries blotted with tears where I poured out my tormented thoughts, I find myself tearing up— but this time with laughter. I remember my mother always told me everything would work itself out, what’s meant to happen will happen, and not to worry about the small stuff. Whatever, mom. I remember thinking that she was utterly out of her mind. How can crush of the week not liking me back be okay, EVER? Well, it turns out I haven’t thought about crush of the week since 1999, and today the fact that I even liked him makes me wonder what in the world I was thinking. It seems funny to me now that my “life-ending” troubles from when I was younger don’t even faze me now. Everything that ever went wrong has worked itself out. My mother was right, and I hate it. These days, I have a whole new set of troubles and worries. Some nights I can’t sleep I’m so stressed, and all my worrying is probably going to result in an ulcer and premature wrinkles or something. Even though I know my mother was right about things in the past, I’m really having a hard time believing that everything bothering me now will be okay. I don’t know where I want to go to college, my boyfriend of 3 and a half years and I just broke up, and I have a B in calculus. How awful. Well actually, when I wrote those problems down, they seemed like big worries. However, in the twenty seconds that have elapsed, I’ve gotten some clarity and they don’t seem like such a big deal. Crap. Mom, why do you have to be right? Now I’ve got even bigger problems. I actually believe my mother is always right? This is not good; I think I’d rather worry about crush of the week.





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