If You Don’t Like It, Leave!
Lately I’ve been thinking about where I am in my life, who I am, what I’m not, what I wish I was, so that I could decide how all of that has led me here to this place between having what you know told to you and figuring it out all on my own.
I am sixteen years old. I have one sister and one brother, and by far my sister is my favorite person in the world. And even though I shouldn’t and I would never tell anyone which one it is, I have a favorite parent. I’m not very nice to my step-dad and I’m not very proud of it. I wish my parents were still married but they’re not. I wish my dad would have stayed married to his third wife and wasn’t getting married again. I wish I could love them better, but I can’t.
I’m opinionated. I say what I think without thinking about how it will affect people or whether or not it’s going to be offensive. I’m never wrong which either makes me stubborn or a colossal bitch. If I don’t agree or don’t want to do something I’ll fight you on it, which most often ends in a temper tantrum, making me look incredibly immature.
I’m easily drawn to tears. All it takes is a few notes of music or watching someone else cry and I’ll blubber like a baby. Eight times out of ten I cry while watching old reruns of 7th Heaven, and I’m not embarrassed to cry at the movie theater.
I have no natural talent. Many people hearing this would say it’s not true, saying that I’m smart, but there won’t be a day in my life that I won’t have to work hard at everything I do. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, because I’m not. If it’s important enough, I’m willing to work at it, but once, just once, I wish something came easy without so much work. But then again it wouldn’t be worth as much to me in the end because I couldn’t say that I had made it all happen.
I wish I was brave. I’m afraid of heights and roller coasters, snakes, and riding in cars with people who drive crazy. Like my dad in his brand new European sports car going 90 miles an hour in a 45-mph zone around corners and in the other lane. No, I’m not brave, but I believe in courage. The courage to do what is right even when it’s hard, to stand up for the things I believe in, to love, to be loved. The courage to share this with others and let them know the real me, to go day to day not knowing for sure what tomorrow brings. I’m scared and I won’t say that I’m not worried, but I know that when I need a little courage I can dig deep and it will be there waiting for me to use it.
I wish I was strong. Not muscle man strong but strong of heart. I would like to think that I’m my own person with my own style and thoughts but when it comes right down to it I think I would change just to be accepted. I don’t like it and maybe your sitting there thinking that’s not me, I think all of us have a little part inside that wants to know that people like us. You either learn to like the things that you know other people want you to like or you leave the things you love without so much as a second thought.
I look at all of these things and think, “Yeah that’s me,” but am I happy with it, do I like who I am? Not really, I don’t want to be this person forever. I hope I can change, grow into a person that I’m proud of, that I would let people see every day and without a doubt know for sure. For now I can say all of these things, admit them, shout them from the roof tops, but if you don’t like it, leave.
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