..swallowed up in the sound of my screaming..cannot cease for the fear of silent nights...

ever seen how biased adults are? and how incredibly stupid? and also how they've lost everything of worth in the world? it should be obvious. seriously. my parenst are super-biased(on top of the paranoia). they will allow me to go out with joanne or any of the HoGC people with just a single word, and yet they make such a big fuss about me going to alethea's house. its liek they don't like my school friends or something, and expect me to be some perfect geeko stereotyped girl who sits at home all day and studies. whose only goal in life is to be top of the class, then the level, then the school. its like they want me to be just another rat in the race of life. its sickening.
i am still pissed off at the very guts they have. being so cautious and showing such an uutterly unobvious dislike to my friend is such an insult, and when i argue my point that they are unreasonable for just brushing off the matter like that without even consideration, they tell me i have a bad attitude. a bad attitude for standing up for my friend? how absolutely blind can they get? they are so caught up in themselves.

all they care about is the world, and how i am, and my attitude and all the other rubbish. they see nothing in fairytales and fantasy and "can be" and "could be"
all they see is reality. they are so rooted ion the monotone of life they fail to hold the light and hope and imagination of a child. they call me immature. immature that i stand up for my friends, that i can see right through their guise. they say i have a n attitude, but i think they just want to shield the fact that they are biased, that they don't like anyone from my school, or anyone outside their little circle for that matter. i think they know i can tell their feelings. and since they make the rules, they can change them. and the y say i, who am forced to follow their rules, are unreasonable. tell me, how can one who is forced the compromise be unreasonable? isn't that incerdibly dumb?

parents can't see the simple truths children do. when i look at them, i don't want to grow up anymore. i don't want to become so tangtled in reality that i leave the imaginations of my life behind-- like they have. its both pitiful and infuriating.

sometimes i think my parents don't like me very much. i mean, i know that they love me. but i feel as if they are doing it more on a i-have-to-do-it-because-im-accountable-to-god basis. they pretty much said that themselves. my dad said "one day i will be accountable to god for you, so i cannot let something bad happen to you" . sure it sounds good and all. but take it apart and examine it. can you not also intepret as that because he is going to be accountable, thus he is being cautious? i know they love me. its like a golden rule for parents to love their children, because if they don't they don't look good. but do they like me?

somehow i doubt that. i really do. i don't think they like me at all, in fact. i feel like they don't like my character, my talents or antyhign about me. they want me to be your perfect litle miss studious, the smartest girl in class, alwyas top of the level and the one the teachers love. that is exactly who i don't want ot be. i want to be my own person. i want to be seen as someone who thinks for herself, and if you don't like me because of my beliefs then i won't suck up to you for your approval. i don't want to be the top of the level or the class, or the school. i would never ever, in my entire life, trade my writing for top student. never. there's nothing in this world that means more to me than my writing. and that's why they don't like me. partially i suppose. they always say its good i can write well, but i don't really think they like the idea. i mean, you can never be rich being an author. people write not for the money but for their satisfaction. if to earn money or for fame is your goal in writing, you will neve rachieve it. that's why i like writing. its a fair thing-- if you don't have an honest heart, you will never succeed. i've always felt that whatever you write carries a part of you in it. that's why words can be so special.
but i think my parents don't like me because of my differentness, my individuality. i want to think by myself. i make my own style. i don't want to be normal. i just want to be true to myself, always. i'd rather die than dishonour myself. i live by that and it keeps me alive.

and they reject me so. they reject that i love something which seems so superficial to them. they can never understand how much it means to me, ever. you have to have that spirit, that fire of words in you before you can comprehend. you cannot pretend to know. writing is like a white fire, defining blatant truth from deceiving lies. but they don't see the depth of it. just an obsession, a passing phase, she will get over it. i proclaim now that i never will.

and then they despise my art, my love for fantasy and the things that do not exist. they will never understand that my salvation lies in my dreams and the realm i have created for myself. they don't ever understand what its like to be me. a social outcast, a black rose, a nocturnal moth. they don't see how i never belong anywhere, because of who i am. i can only feel the bonds of friendship with certain people, i can only connect with them and them only. yet they try and tear me away, and force me onto others whom i cannot feel at home with. and when i take refuge in the only place i know how, they despise me for it.

their words of how they sacrifice, how its all for my own good. they seem so empty to me. as empty as my heart feels when i know beyond the shadow of a doubt, that they cannot accept me for who i am.