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Grown Up

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I was born a misfit, an outsider. I never fit in because it seemed impossible. There was popular trends, the new drug, whatever. It did not matter; it was all a bunch of nonsense. My friends, well not really friends, always thought that you should live life the way you want it to be lived. Freely, and without obligations or any stresses. You should be content with what your life choices are.

As mothers “commonly” say, you are whom you hang out with. My friend’s beliefs became mine also. I began to be a “bad girl,” or whatever you want to call it.

“Where were you for the past week?”
“I’m not a child, mother you have to learn how to let go”
“A child let me tell you something. You are not even a legal adult. So legally you are a child!”

I glare into my mothers devilish eyes. Fearing what my punishment is. Usually she will threaten to send me to military camp, or something that involves controlling adults with guns. She has a way of always gnawing the truth out of me. She will give me either the evil eyes, or the silence treatment. I find it a lot easier if I just full out avoid her. However, of coarse this night she had to wait up for me.
I do not get it. At the age of sixteen, she will not let me live my life to its “full” potential. She chooses her life and now I am choosing mine.

“Mom I’m sorry, but I’m grown up. I am not that little girl you used to tuck in at night. Now, I am truly an adult. Punish me if you want, but what is that going to do? I am already an individual. From here you can’t stop me”


Her eyes began to fill with tears, as she gave me a I know looks. She knew what I had been doing for my week of absence. At least she seemed to have an idea. Now, I am truly in fear of what my life story’s next pages hold.





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