Don't deny it, we all said as children, that all you want to do is grow up. And quite frankly growing up shouldn't be what we thought it would be like, what i would have thought it would be like. I wanted to be older, taller, and smarter! I loved the thought of being able to leave the house alone and with money and a cell phone in hand, wearing clothing my mother doesn't pick out for me, and I would be able to curse and I won't get those discouraged looks from pregnant women and the elderly. The older kids were simply my heroes; I craved to be one of them! Yet I had no idea what I was getting myself into, who does? They say 'Live while you're young' for a reason. Because my future is coming, and its coming pretty fast. As fast as a roller coaster along with all the ups and downs and spins around, it's difficult no matter the age.
Whenever I talked about wanting to grow up, each and every adult said, "Oh, look at you! Wanting to be old like Mommy. Isn't that just the sweetest thing I've heard! Your days will come sweetie." -- Then they seemed to feel obligated to pinch my flustered cheeks. That is one thing that always seems to grind my gears, is people, specifically older individuals touching my head. Don't they have there own heads? Or did fall off the same time they were my age, in the naive years; or should I say, the teenage years. Thirteen to nineteen, for some people its twelve to twenty. Either way, I'm stuck right in the middle, half finished. And one more half to go!
Now hear me out. I'm a teenager myself, what can I say? One important aspect of me is the fact that I usually don't apologize for anything I do and when I do, it won't have much meaning behind it. Most things I end up saying or doing I've spent time planning it out in my head, so I usually know what I'm getting myself into. The hours i spend alone in my square room to the nights where I can't sleep, I spend my times in my room thinking of every scenario of everything I do, of everything I say. But on another note, I spend my days doing nothing productive; so my parents say. And let me tell you myself that they say that a lot! I'm the basic quintessential kid too, I text too much, listen to a variety of music (depending on the mood), but speaking of moods? Don't get me started on the swings of my emotions. According to my mother, my mood swings are devils words sent from hell to assassinate her at every waking moment her and I share-- But really It's a simple state of mind that lasts for a period of time that every female like myself seems to get, and after that is over with I go back to what I usually do; nothing productive
It's only my lovely menopausal mother keeping my little family of five together but with that power, she breaks down my family with a snap of a finger. She is quite pretty though; chest length dark red-- turning grey hair, the perfect 5'6" height, dark brown eyes, very light, yet wrinkled skin and quite a thin figure, which she worked on for quite awhile. Her name has a nice ring to it too; Olive. She says it's a Dutch name, but I beg to differ. Then there's my fatherly unit, he simply tags along in the family drama and tries to control it after my mother ran out of un-finished sentences to use. I don't see him as often as I used to, after he picked up that full day shift at work, from 8am to 10pm at night, he makes up for it by paying my cell phone bill, so I'm fine with the times. He used to be a handsome man, about 5'11" an okay height, curly blonde-grey hair but larger. His name was Alan, I don't see any history behind that name; as far as I know he's all-Canadian like my two brothers and I. My parents are about 48-50 years old, not too sure why they waited so long to have kids.
Stephen, my eldest brother, where we've only recently grown closer, yet he's still 2 years older than me, he's 17 and has done nothing productive in his life either. No job, he doesn't know how to drive, he's a very shy man. Why do I say man? Because he's the tallest one in my family. 6'2", he towers over everyone, his voice is deep and intimidating, and he's fit and strong, and his grades are basically perfect. He goes by Steve though; unless my mom is mad then its, STEPHEN ALAN SMITH! And followed by a simple, get your ass over here. My little brother, Troy is too much to handle for anyone in the right mind. Good thing my parents take good care of him, as he never runs out of energy. Maybe I was like that as a toddler, He was cute until he turned his age; 3, then he screams and runs around without a care in the world.