cave men can wait

#15 Isabel Antonia Farrarons

Free Writing




Boys. Well, I’m not really crazy
about them but my mom seems to be. Ever since my parents found out that their
little baby girl actually had boy friends, my mom practically freaked. My dad’s
been pretty cool with the whole thing which is a relief. My mom’s a different
story. She acts all Nancy Drew-ey and starts asking questions to all the guys
that call me. My mom freaks the living hell out of them. Talk about
embarrassing. I guess it’s going to take a little while for her to sink in the
idea that I’m growing up, guys aren’t that icky anymore and that they’re
probably going to want to call or hang out with me. She has deranged ideas that
my guy friends take drugs, and smoke and booze up the whole day which I swear
to God isn’t true. So I decided to start bringing my guy friends over to the
house to really prove to her that they’re actually human. My plan worked. So
now she actually likes them bumming around the house. She even looks for them
or asks them to come over on some days. Wow, mom.


Now, I’m blinded by the thought
that I really am growing up. And the more I think about it, the more I want the
“growing up” to stop. Ever since I was a kid and discovered the true powers of
the six eyed monsters called parents, I started believing that they were evil
and all the other grown ups were. I hated people who were older than me
thinking that they could either hurt or kill me. But when I got older I learned
killing and hurting people were illegal, silly me. Nonetheless, I still
believed they were evil.


Every single day, some person
tells or reminds me that I’m 15. “You’re old enough to know your—BLABLA.” I mean,
there are advantages to growing up like old enough to drive and all the other
good stuff. And then there’s the responsibility and maturity crap. And now as
I’m typing away on what I really feel about growing up. I just realized that
I’m not, grown up that is. I’m too stubborn and too lazy to do anything I’m
supposed to and the rules you set with me don’t really mean much. I mean, I can
be really responsible or impressive or any way you want me to be as long as I’m
up for it but if I’m not, don’t bother. 
I live life the way I want to and I don’t really listen to what people
tell me. Is that growing up? Living the life you want? I guess I’m just too
lost to know where I am or where I’m going. Maybe I just need someone to carry
the lamp for me, open the map and show me the way through the cave called life.
Life’s scary, cold and pretty harsh just like them caves. But sometimes if we
go through the cave bravely not caring about the bats and the creepy crawlies,
we see the light we’ve been waiting for, our hopes and dreams. Life’s all about
the hopes and dreams; going after and getting them. And now I’m just hoping for
someone to lead the way. Cave mans can wait.

i hate boys.
but i love chabel.

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