Breakaway

I really have nothing of real interest to report. No profound philosophy or intricate concentrations on human emotion or the functions of life. Just sitting here, in the chaotic juxtaposition of girls that make up my digital media class, bored out of my mind because it is that last day and we therefore have nothing going on, listen to the No Doubt being blasted from behind me. I really should be working on other things. Chemistry and English and Math and all the other things that beckon; but I don't want to. Far to much in my life is like that, all the things I should be doing but don't. It's like my life is divided in half: the things that others expect of me and that which I expect of myself. Mostly my mom; she expects me to be meek, and sutdious, and her personal assistant. But I am not those things. I am loud, and could care less about school or sacrificing in the service of others.

Very cliche, but Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson is now playing and I think that's all I want in life. I am so tired of living for others, living for some pipe dream at my mom's acceptance. I'm sick of constantly hold myself back, of giving up on things that I want that my mom wouldn't approve, of wasting my youth away trying to be someone that I'm not. Today I become a senior in high school, and yet with the restriction of my life I may as well be a kindergardener. Watching all these seniors graduate and go off to their lives makes me so jealous. I can't wait to be free. To paint my nails black, and right on my arms, and dress myself, and dye my hair whatever color I want, and I all the other things I can't do here.

It's kind of like my car ride to school this morning. I overslept (yeah, going to bed a 4 a.m. was not the best idea apparently, haha) and missed the bus and my mom had to drive me. It was 30 minutes of lecturing me on my incompetance, and what a burden I am on my family, and how sick of me my mom is, ansd how horrible I looked, and how I'm never going to be aloud to get a license if I can't even wake up on time; but eventually, we got to school, I got out of the car, and my mom left, and I was okay and happy and free to go on me.

So I suppose this is just an 18 year long car ride; eventually we will reach our destiny, I will get out of the car, and I will be free. But for now, I'm sick of these spinning wheels feeling like they never progress. I am ready to stand on my own to feet.