I am seventeen years old. I admit that, when not in a crisis situation, I do not act my age. That does not mean you have the permission or the right, to speak to me as though I am twelve. I try so hard to judge people by their intentions, instead of actions, but eventually I cannot fight the urge to ignore the reason of others. The first time you spoke down to me, it hurt, but the next day I forgot of such. Then it happened again and again. There are but sixteen days left, and yet you make me want to skip them all, to avoid you and everyone else treating me as though I’m inferior to everyone. I already feel in the way, left out and like a perpetual hindrance. I’m not going to hunt your down, so in person I may list my many social faults to you, or my insecurities, to try and make you understand how much you ‘hurt’ me. Nor can I guarantee that, if you do it again, I won’t finally voice my opinion of how you treat me. First, you bitch at my friend as she raged, as though feelings are controllable and something to punish other for. Now, I cannot try and look out for a friend.
Fine. I will sulk, avoid you, and curse like a little twelve year old who has just been to exposed to expletives. If you’re going to treat me like a child, just fuck off.
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