Little background info before you get to reading: Me, my mother, and my older sister were in the kitchen a little while ago and as my mother was making dinner, we were all talking and then she said something like, "She's just trying to prove she's just like I was when I was her age," Now whenever my mother - or anyone else, for that matter - compares me to her in some way, shape or form whether it be directly or in a roundabout way, I get pissed. Like, beyond pissed. I don't like being compared to other people. I just want to be myself, an individual, and how can I be an individual, my own person, if I'm always being compared to someone else? So I really get offended whenever someone compares me to her or anyone else. Anyway, after she said that, I was a little outraged, because that's not what I was doing or something I would ever even consider doing, and I didn't try to hide it. She said it was a compliment, and I said it wasn't; it was an insult. She was like, "How is it an insult?" And I said, "It just is." And she got pissed at me and I got pissed at her for getting pissed at me - what can I say? Being 17 is no picnic. Anyway, I couldn't exactly tell her why I considered it an insult because she wouldn't have taken it seriously and probably would have thought I was just lying or mocking her or whatever and that would have made her even more PO'ed. Anyway, after that, I took my dinner and went to my room, ate, stewed for a little while and then I just couldn't keep it all inside anymore and just had to get it out, but it wasn't the sort of feeling I could just journal about, it was the sort of feeling that was just begging me to write a poem about it. So I did. I pulled up WordPad, put Lauren Alaina's "Growing Her Wings" on repeat, and just started typing. Anyway, just thought you ought to know what state of mind I was in when I wrote this. I decided that since it's all just my raw emotions here I should post it. I didn't think, I just typed and stopped when it felt like I could stop, and I think that's the best kind of poetry there is, the kind that's not planned out but just done in the moment; pure, raw emotion. The kind that bares your heart and soul and every little thing you're feeling at the moment to everyone reading. I like the kind of poetry that offers insight into what someone is really feeling. I like raw emotion. And that's what this is, so I thought it would be a good piece to post here. I did do a little proof-reading, though; I didn't change anything, just fixed the spelling of a few words. Anyway... I hope you enjoy the read.

It's freezing cold in here, I can feel it in my heart
And I can ignore it because your words have left me hot with anger
Hot with frustration
Hot with confusion
Hot with conflict
Just hot.

They play over in my head like a terrible song on repeat
And what I said plays back
But not just what my words were like when they were said
But the feelings and the consequences as well
Why do I always have to put my foot in my mouth?
Why can't I just learn when to shut the fuck up?
Why couldn't I walk away brush you off?
Why am I so good with the written word but so terrible when they're spoken out loud?

What you said stung me
And I you
I had no right but neither did you
You didn't know any better at the same time that you did
We've done this dance before
And it's always ended the same way
And somehow I always seem to make it worse
And somehow I'm always at fault and you walk away scott-free
I always get blamed and you always get pissed
It's not fair but it is what it is.

I would take it back in a heart beat if I could
But do I regret it?
Not at all.
If I have to learn where all the lines and boundaries are why the hell don't you?
If I have to watch my mouth and try better next time why don't you?
I'm supposed to be the hormonal and irrational one
I'm supposed to act like a child so immature
At least that's what society and science has always said
So why is it around here I'm supposed to play responsible
While you get to play the child?
Why am I supposed to feel bad about what I say when my teenage anger and angst rear their ugly beast heads?
Why does everyone get to beat me up over what I already feel so crappy about?
Why do you get to stay a child forever and I have to play mature?

It's highly unfair and we all know it
But everyone around here just accepts it
If I speak my mind I get hell and if I lie I do, too
I can't win but you always do
Tell me mother dearest where is the line that you are never permitted to cross?
Why do you get to be so mean and harsh and such a bitch and no one bats an eyelash
But if anyone else does all hell breaks loose?
Why do you get such leniency over every little thing?
Is there some memo I've yet to receive that will explain every little rule I don't understand?
We all have to play by the rules so why don't you?
Why are you above the law of the household?
If I didn't know any better I would call you a manipulative bitch
But I was raised better than that, wasn't I?
Oh wait, that was some other girl
In a different lifetime and a different household and a different family
I was raised to be a bit of a bitch
I was raised to have a little potty-mouth
I grew up around every different type of person
And I was exposed to everything under the sun
But I was still raised a little princess and everyone knows that
But then I wasn't one day
One day I was expected to be independent and mature and responsible
You didn't teach me better but expected it of me
I'm just naturally smart so maybe that's why you expect so much of me.

I don't know why you think and act the way you do
And I don't know why everyone just accepts it that way
And I sure as hell don't know how I turned out the way I did considering the way I was raised
But maybe that's just the magic of 90s TV?
Whatever the case I can't say I'm sorry for what I said
Because I'm not
But I still very am.
I don't want you to be mad at me I just want you to know it's not okay
I don't want to be compared to you in any way
It's nothing personal
I just want more out of life
What you said was not a compliment
It was anything but
And I said that and I don't regret it
But I am sorry
Being a teenager is a confusing and difficult time in a girls life
And you're not making it any easier for me

I hope tomorrow you won't be as mad
I hope we can work past this
I know I'll cry myself to sleep tonight
And that you'll never know that
I know something inside of me cracks everytime you stay mad at me
And it makes me so sad and miserable after the anger wears off
It's makes me blast Simple Plan in my headphones
I skate through the rest of my night in a blur
Race to bed and cry into my pillow clutching my stuffed dog for comfort
Thinking that she will never be mad at me she will never leave me
And neither will my Nikki
A dog's love is pure and it's unconditional and they are oh so loyal and always there for you
I will be thinking that it'd be nice to have someone there to give me a hug even though I don't like to be touched
I will be thinking that you're such a bitch sometimes and that sometimes I hate you
And sometimes I don't know why I do
I will be thinking that maybe someday things will be okay
I will be thinking that I'm tired of crying myself to sleep at night
I will be thinking that I love you but sometimes you're too much to deal with
I will be thinking about your words and mine
And right before I fall asleep I will be thinking that maybe your intention sometimes is to make me cry
And that maybe you get some perverse pleasure from twisting up my heart and mind
I will be thinking that maybe you've got a twisted mind
And I will be thinking that maybe you just weren't raised better
And then I will fall asleep and my dreams will be haunted by a strange feeling that has me waking up too early.
In the morning I will relive the night in my mind and the urge to cry will be gone
But your words will have left another scar on my heart

I'll walk on eggshells all morning until you emerge from your room
And then I will make small talk to judge whether you're still pissed
And if you are
The day will go by too slowly and I'll spend another night soaking my pillow and stuffed dog...

If I didn't know any better I would tell you that I spend too many nights crying myself to sleep
And that your words and mine affect me way too much
But I know better than that.

Your words haunt me forever after
And so do mine;
Being a writer can sometimes be such a terrible thing...