Puppet Master
I’ve been having some problems with my mom lately. Actually it’s been a problem for a few years now. I love her I really do, but lately she’s been putting everything on me. “You HAVE TO do well on the SAT! Check my account!” I’m not asking for much, just some respect. Sure, I’m sixteen, but it would be nice to be treated like a person. She is actually taking over my room. It started with her iPhone and her Bluetooth charging. I don’t mind. Then her clothes started to appear in my room. Umm…. okay, I can totally deal. I leave for one week for a camping trip and I come back with the rest of my closet on the very top shelf and her clothes are neatly hanging in MY closet. I thought a person’s room is supposed to be their sanctuary. Away from reality, away from our troubles. A place where we can totally be ourselves, not be judged, and no rules to restrain us from doing whatever we want. Well, I officially have no sanctuary.
My mom doesn’t understand that I’m still only sixteen. I want to do things on my own time. I’m doing everything she’s asking of me and I don’t think she satisfied. I don’t think she likes me for who I am. She wants a thin, smart, beautiful daughter. Instead, she got an overweight, average, ugly daughter. I like who I am. To me, I’m not so bad. I do well in school, I’m taller than the average Asain, and I’m pretty well- behaved sixteen year old. I wish I could do more
