Just let me grow up

Time = 1:02 AM

Mood = Bitchy, Teary, Emotional, Rebellious, Conflicted, Stressed shall I go on?

Music = Panic! at the Disco

What I SHOULD be doing = who knows?

This is so fucked up. seriously. Guh. Okay, so here's the thing. I'm the baby of the family. I'm graduated, and going into my second year of university? What does this mean? I'm growing up. I'm gaining maturity, and I want my own life, separate from my parents. I don't want them to control my life. I don't want them to have any right in my life. Fuck.

Okay, so point number one. Debt. I have student loans. Yeah. Because university is fucking expensive and I can't go if I don't get them. Well, my dad doesn't like that. He thinks that student loans are terrible, terrible debt, and that you should never ever go into debt for anything. That's bullshit. To me, loans are an investment. If I don't go to university, then I can't get a good job anyway, so why the fuck would I fret about it when I know I have to go to university to get a good job? I have explained this to him so. many. fucking. times. The man doesn't listen. He only has a one track mind. And in his mind, I'm fucking my life up with loans.

Actually, most of this shit has to do with money. Meet my dad. He's obsessed with money, but god forbid if you ever tell him that. He doesn't think he is. He just thinks he's realistic. That's bullshit. He's completely obsessed with money. He wants to have money, but he doesn't really have a reason for it. He's not saving for anything, he's not even living a good life, but no, money is important. He keeps constant tabs on the economy. Essentially, he is completely, and totally paranoid about money. He believes that you should always, always buy things on sale. Never pay any more than you have to for shit. Stick it to the fucking man. Oh course, in his mind, it's realism. But let me tell you, that is some fucking paranoid realism you've got going on there, man.

Point number two? A job. Now, I have only had one in my life, so I pretty much fail at resumes. So, I wrote one up on Monday, and sent it to my sister to get her to look at it. She didn't. Monday night, I asked my dad to look at it to tell me if it was okay. He told me he was busy. Every. Single. Fucking. Night. from Monday to Thursday. So here I am, sitting with an unfinished resume. Well, I finally got him to look at it on Thursday, and he told me how I could fix it. So I did. And got him to look at it today, Friday. He told me that it was good. Seems normal so far, right? Well, that's when things went down hill again. So he looks at my resume, and talks about how I really need to get myself out there, or the high school kids are going to beat me to a job, and then I'll never get a good job all summer. In dad speak, that pretty much means LOL YOU'RE FUCKED. Agh! It just pisses me off so much! I haven't had a chance to get out there because my resume wasn't finished until tonight. I had no opportunity to get in there. So then, he tells me to look up jobs, and hovers over my fucking shoulder so that I fucking do what he says. As I expected, the only job online is a lawn mower. Employment is hard here, no matter when you get your resume in. My big sister went a year and a half with no job. Apparently, my dad didn't get the memo. No, on his watch, if you don't get a job, you're being a lazy ass.

So then, I finally tell him to stop hovering, seconds away from saying something like STFU, GTFO, GDIAF, and thank god, he goes away. I finally start to calm down, after having been worked up into a nauseous stress ball, when he goes to bed. I'm like, thank god, now I can recover. Life's funny. It really likes fucking you up. It's like, LOL YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE? NO WAY! and my dad comes out and starts talking about how he's sorry, and it's just that he doesn't know how to support me. See, this is where I'm an idiot. My dad always does this, and I always think he's ready to talk. He's never ready to talk. He pretends to be understanding, but he doesn't listen. He never fucking listens. He is always in the right. He's even right saying he's not always in the right. Ikr? so, to be honest, I can't actually remember what I said. All I remember is that he didn't listen to me. And that he pretty much repeated what he always says. In a round about way, he tells me that I'm not being realistic. He informs me that I'm fucking myself by getting into debt, he thinks that I'm immature and irresponsible, and that unless I see things the way he does, I'm an idiot. Real feelgood stuff, let me tell you. I ended the conversation telling him that no matter how hard he tried, I would never, ever, see the world the way he saw it.

He tells me he doesn't know how to be supportive. Well, I wish I could tell him how, because I have the answer, I just can't say it. I want him to let me grow up. I want him to let me make mistakes and screw myself over. I want him to let me learn how to live life. Because it's sure as hell a lot harder when he's trying to make my life mini-dad. I'm not like him. He's a linear thinking, a mathematician. I'm a musician. an artist. I just want him to let me grow up and make my own mistakes. I want him to stop trying to control my life. I want him to stop telling me what to do. I know I'll screw myself over sometimes. I'm growing up, it happens, but it's my problem, and I'll deal with it when it comes. Honestly the way he hovers is just his way of telling me he has absolutely no faith whatsoever that I'm going to grow up okay. Do you have any idea how discouraging it is to know that both your parents don't believe you have the capacity to make it on your own? Pretty. Fucking. discouraging.

And that's where I end it.

Dragonista out.