I hate always being the bad guy, the one that has to yell at my little brothers and boss them around incessantly. I hate how everything that has to do with the house or the kids always falls upon my shoulders, as if I’m a mother, which is news to me if I am one because the last time I checked I was definitely still just a kid. I hate getting frustrated and stressed out over small, petty things like the fact that my brothers didn’t do what I had asked them to the first time. I hate the feeling of dread, What Will My Parents Think, when they come home and I haven’t completed every single task to perfection. I hate that messy or cluttered spaces make me nervous, I hate that I can’t let it go if the dishes aren’t clean. I hate that the front hem of my shirt is always wet from cleaning, I hate that my hands always smell of some kind of detergent or chemical. And I hate how tired they always seem to look. I hate how being responsible ages me, chains me down and drags me beneath the water, where I long to swim freely but am unable to do so.

It sucks being a teenager sometimes, it really does. There are days when you feel helpless, alone, insignificant, even. But that’s just a part of growing up. We have to take the time to realize that the only people that are in control of the way we feel are ourselves. That’s how we mature, and grow as people.

But if you can’t move past your own selfish wants and needs, if you can’t get it through your head that you’re not the only person alive and breathing and feeling in this world, then you’re stuck. You’re not going, or growing, anywhere. And I’ve got nothing more for you. I have no sympathy for those who don’t wish to grow; I have absolutely no tears or understanding, and I can honestly say that I really do not give a shit.

If you don’t care, truly, about other people, what in the hell makes you think that you deserve for them to care that way about you?

This world is give and take. Learn it, live it, love it.