A/N - This is actually how I currently feel. I just felt like writing about it. I actually havn't written an actual journal log in a notebook in a long time because I had finished one book and didn't bother to get another one. Well, basically about how I feel about my mom invading my privacy.
December 30, 2005
It feels like my patience is growing thicker instead of growing thin. Why does this have to happen? My mother asks too many questions that doesn't even concern her any way what so ever. So why does she even care what I do? She had invaded the privacy of my knapsack far too many times a person should have. I don't ever recall her searching through my bag in the past. But just starting a few months ago did she start. The first time, she found a pack of cigarettes that don't even belong to me. So now she thinks I smoke even though I've been repetitive and told her that they didn't belong to me. The second time was just before she was finished with dinner. She had called me downstairs and asked me about the lighters. I wondered how she knew about them. I only had them because I like to amuse myself with the multicolored flame that it can produce. I don't cause any serious harm or damage with them. So she took out about eight lighters from the front pocket of my bag. She asked why I had them. I lied. I told her they weren't mine. I somehow pulled it off and she believed me. But she still told me all this shit that I don't give a damn about. But then again. Why is she telling me what to do when she shouldn't be searching through my bag in the first place. She invaded my privacy once again. And that happened yesterday.
It rained heavily. I was walking home from a friend's house from researching on a project. It had started to rain gently mere hours ago. And now it was pouring. I had my hood on and my jacket was getting wet but I patiently walked home with my pants dragging on the floor and my socks getting wet from the water that seeps in from walking into puddles. I had hung my jacket over the furnace to quicken the drying process. And my mother looked through my pockets. Not sure why but she just did. And she had found four more lighters. She lectured me on why I had them. But I ignored her. I stared at my monitor screen just blocking her out. I didn't care. She was getting real obnoxious.
Why can't I just live without all the hurling of the questions that doesn't even concern you? It's not like I can live up to the standards that you want me to be at. I try my best for the grade I get. You don't really seem to care about that, you don't care about the results. All you care about it just what is accomplished. I get into honor roll. But I don't tell you because I know you wouldn't care and there was no way I can explain it to you. You expect me to have a license when I turn sixteen. You expect me to graduate high school with full potential and at least get a paying part time job. You expect me to earn my scholarship for college. Or even university. But what you couldn't do when you were that age doesn't mean that I can. You expect way too many fucking things that I don't even think I can do. You keep doubting me that I have all these projects. Well fuck you. I do and you can't do anything about it. If you expect me to accomplish all that you want me to, then why are you holding me back? For crying out loud, let me live my life so I CAN do what you expect. You think things are so damn easy to do. But they're not. I hold back my anger because I KNOW better that it just doesn't work to lush back. Just leave me be and let me BREATHE.
And others wonder why I'm so unhappy all the time. It's because my family holds me down for what I can actually do or be.
Well, I can't really do anything about it can I? All I can actually do to keep my secrets away from them is to tell someone else. Or write about it and let it all out for anonymous people to read..