The Perfect Daughter

     I am not related to the title of this post what so ever. I am anything, but the perfect daughter. According to my mother anyway. I know I screw up sometimes, but it's mostly just the little stuff. Like, I forget to empty the cat litter, or take down the laundry basket. I've never done drugs, smoked, drank, or dyed my hair purple. Sometimes, I wonder, do they even realize what they've got? I'm not trying to say that they are oh so lucky to have me as a daughter; but, what I am saying, is that it could be worse.

      I realize they want the "best" for me, and they just decide certain things, "because they love me", but what I really don't understand, is truly why. They never really give me an answer. It's always the same old, "because you don't need to be hanging out with guys", but why? Am I going to go gang banging, making out in the alley, and graffiti the school? No. Sincerely, the worst I could get myself into, is eat too many pixie sticks, and get a stomach ache. The worst, that I could do, is prank call my ex, and have him find out it was me.. OH NO. Right? It's awful, I know. This is extremely sarcastic, but at the same time, not at all.

      My mom got mad at me today, for wearing a sweater and tights to church. She thought that it looked "innaproriate", and was obviously embaressed. She thought I should've had better judgement when picking out what to wear. This isn't the first time this has happened, this is probably, the fourth or fifth time, at the least. In her mind of course, she is thinking she's just trying to form me into being as conservative as possible, and blahblahblah. She doesn't consider what she's saying, shouting, at me, would affect me personally in the least. I'm sorry, but I am sick of having her judgemental thoughts thrown at me everytime my outfit doesn't fit her mindset of a perfect daughter. Then, she goes around telling her friends about it. Getting their opinion, just so she can convince herself, that she is always right. So really, this just turns into her, and her friends going on and on, harrassing me on my choice of wardrobe. Yup, this, is my life. I am dramatic, histrionic even. Yet, every little thing counts for something, it builds up. Eventually, I won't be able to take it anymore; and eventually, they'll regret everything.

In a BestFriends life.

     It's nothing new really. Best Friends. It's someone who you aren't with, because they need you. It's because, you need them. This, is my best friend. She's not even a friend really, she's a sister. Literally, like a part of my family. This picture is when she came with me and my family to the Apple Orchard. She's by me right now actually, but that's not anything new. She's always by me, for me to cry to, complain, gossip, and basically tell every detail of why the guy I like is a jerk. She listens though, even if she doesn't seem to care, she listens. If nothing else, she fakes it, so I feel loved. One time, I was going to her house, me and my dad got in a fight. I walked through her door with tears racing down my cheeks, and ran straight to her room. I then proceeded to explain to her the whole dilemma, while she sat there, listening. She's not the type of person that tells me to suck it up, or rub some dirt on it. Then, when she needs some lovin', I'll listen. I mean, I do listen, and I care. I care not because of the issue, but because it's what she cares about, and feels. We spent about an hour just laying in my room, doing absolutely nothing. We don't need entertainment to have fun around eachother. That's a best friend. When you can take the worst situation there could possibly be, and make the best memories out of it. Muah.

This is me.

    Being as unoriginal as I am, the title of this post just came to me. I know, you're impressed. I'm just a teenage girl, trying to find a place in this world. Just kidding, that's too cliche, even for me. Alright, so if you're reading this, and just need to know the name of the fantastic writer behind the magic, call me Mat.

    I was born in a boring town, not too big, not too small. Then, when I was eight years old, we moved. I was obviously just heart broken, the perfect princess I was. I just couldn't comprehend why daddy would make me leave my friends and family. Now, I obviously know that when someone needs a stable job to provide for their family, they'll do anything to get just that; I love my dad for this. I've made memorable friendships, and people that have impacted my life greatly.

    Though, I love it here, and I'm not just dying to go make something of myself in The Big Apple, I do crave something. I feel like, there's something inside of me, desperately attempting to claw it's way out. I have style, class, and creativity that is horribly difficult to portray in high school. They say high school's the time to try new things, before you're too old, and it's too late. At first, I thought this to be true, until my mom didn't let me try gymnastics. What I'm trying to say, is high school limits you. It forces your mind, and personality to reach a halt. Now, I'm not saying be someone you're not; if you are confident enough to be 100% yourself, go for it. Though, for me, I not only listen skeptically, but take to heart, every word that someone expresses of me. Some parts of me, wants to keep this blog a secret, because I fear of people seeing me exposed, as my true self. Another side of my brain, is screaming "LET ME OUT". It wants so badly to be heard. This, all comes back to limits, high school, and being yourself. I let other people get to me, I let them dig their thoughts, and judgements deep inside me, past my skull and into my brain, through my chest, and buried in my heart.

    I wish, for my own well being, that someday, I will be born. Reborn even, into my true self. To show the world, what I can do, how I can make a difference. If I start living my life, instead of letting others steer me into the wrong paths, I believe, I will start becoming a better being of who I am, and who I wish to be.