one thousand acts of arson.

Guess what America? I’m pissed.

First off, I just want to say that I’m sick of being lied to. You proclaim friendship and trust and blah blah blah, yet you go behind my back and spread rumors and don’t tell me what’s going on. If we’re friends, I’d understand right? I’d be accepting, right? I don’t need your protection from the truth even though the truth would “hurt me”. I’m not a baby, I can handle it. I’m sick of people trying to protect me from their decisions. It’s your life, do what you will because I just don’t care anymore. The thing I need protection from isn’t the truth, oh no, I need protection from you.

(Side Note: This is not to a particular person, more like a collection of colorful characters that are in my life. If you feel like this is to you, then maybe you should stop lying to me too.)

My folks really need to stop promising me things too. It’s getting old. Let’s take a trip back to what they’ve promised JUST this year:

• “Oh honey, you can go to any college you get in to, you’ve earned it!” Outcome: EPIC FAILURE
• “If you go to Virginia Wesleyan instead of Marymount, you can live on campus. That would be a good experience for you.” Outcome: FAILURE
• “When you turn 18 you can pretty much do what you want, come and go as you please, etc. You’ll be responsible for yourself but you can still live here.” Outcome: This one is tricky because I’m sure I’ll still live here, but I’m sure I’ll feel like a prisoner. So we’ll label the “Outcome” as BLEAK.

I’m almost an adult, while I realize that ALMOST is the key word in the sentence, they know that I’m more mature than a lot of teenagers my age. I’ve been a relatively good kid for them too. Never been arrested, never gotten in trouble at school, never gotten in trouble with the cops, and I don’t think I went to a single “cool” high school party in the four years I’ve gone to Kempsville. They’ve had it, to put it straight, pretty easy as far as I’m concerned. All I wanted was a little independence, you know? A little faith from them that I could make it, but that was just too much to ask for I guess.

I guess lies are a lot like Pringles, “once you pop, you just can’t stop.”