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... is more or less my life at this moment.

Being seventeen is a little bit like being tied to one of those medieval torture devices--one arm pulled one way, your legs pulled the other, and every way you try to squirm only makes the whole thing tighter. It's hell, really, and the worst part is there isn't much of an escape.

Lately my parents and I have been fighting. A lot. Like, way more than normal, which, for us, puts us smack dab in the middle of most people's "normal" range (we're a close little bunch, for the most part). It hurts no matter what I do--if I subjugate myself to what my parents want me to do, say, think and feel, it means a much easier time of things at home and probably better grades (I'll be the first one to admit that they know best when it comes to managing homework), but also denying who I am and the person I may become. The age I'm in almost demands personal exploration, but parental fears and negative reactions to that sort of thing are remarkably effective in quelling that. Worse, if I DO decide to stand up for what I currently believe, which may or may not be remarkably transient (also common for a seventeen-year-old), I gain the satisfaction of doing what I want and taking a stand for something I feel is important, but also garner my parents' disappointment, verbal abuse, and, in certain cases, shame.

What's a girl to do, huh?

At this point, I've chosen to go with the flow of the former, I think. It'll be easier in the long run, and once I'm in college I can be a little freer about myself without the fear of incurring parental wrath or hurt. There are little things I can do to support my beliefs in the mean time--prodding the Washington Post about Scientology, for example--and so long as I maintain a GPA that's 3.5 or higher and manage to get into a parentally-approved college, I'll be just fine.

Wish me luck, ladies and germs. I'm REALLY gonna need it.

deceitfully,
~muse