The 11-year-old 19 year old.
Saturday, 02/28/04 - 4:33 pm.

Early in the morning, I walk in my parents' bedroom and crawl in their bed, under the thick sheets. My dad is taking a shower and my mom is combing her hair in front of the mirror.

- Me: mom, are you going to the supermarket today?
- Mom: yes, what do you need?
- Me: could you get me some eyeshadow?
- Mom: It'd be better if you went, so you can pick the color.
- Me: black is ok. Get me black.
- Mom: how about no color?

Subtle way to tell me "no way you're wearing make-up".

I didn't say a word, because I'd just woken up, I had no strenght whatsoever to even say "but...", or to mention that I already wear mascara. But the first thing that came to my mind when she said that was: how old am I, again?.

Being 19 isn't as nice as I thought it was. I'm confused and even terrified. My parents raised me good, but if I should point out a flaw I'd say they never taught me how to be independent. They never pushed me, so to speak. I don't know if it'd be ok to put all the blame on them, though. My personality is not based on being an extrovert, I don't know if that's my fault. But I guess I'm to blame, too, for not fighting harder to be more independent and for not being able to think beyond the year I'm in (I never really thought of getting behind the wheel until I was 17, because my dad always has driven me anywhere I need to be...and he still does, "and I will continue to do it until I can't").

Last night my sister asked me to stay with my nephew this morning, while he was in his theatre classes. I went to the place, had breakfast and did nothing but read Prozac Nation. Sometimes I'd stare at the outside world. That "Plaza" is in the middle of the uptown world. Surrounded by mansions where rich people with huge, luxurious cars lived. But my mind kept coming back to the "no make-up" thing and what that really meant.

I've started to want to wear eye make-up. But I'm so stupidly dependent that I can't even get the car by myself to the store, and I don't have money of my own to buy, because, surprise-surprise, I've never had a job in my life. All in all, I didn't like that my mom told me what to do as if I was 11 years old. I think I'm big enough to make my own choices, and I'm in my right to wear make-up if I want to.

But with my parents, I always feel like I'm 11 years old.

My sister took us (my nephew and me) to Burger King for lunch. I suppose that was my pay for putting up with 4 hours of just being in the same place as my nephew. It gets tiring, as a matter of fact, because there's really not much to do. At least I'm more familiar with the place now, the people who work there know me and are extremely nice to me.

I thought of throwing up when I came home, after BK. I wasn't feeling like, but I'm starting to feel out of shape. More than usual. Instead, though, I fell asleep. I'm going to the movies in a few minutes, my sister will take us to see Spirited Away, which I've heard is wonderful.

To tell the truth, I can't help being bothered by my mom. She's nice and all, she's always respected my tastes in music and clothing...well, in clothing. When it comes to music sometimes she drops down a stupid comment like it's ok that I like music as long as its moral. "As long as its moral"? Music is not supposed to be your life teacher, goddammit. So yeah, Aerosmith sounds heavy sometimes, it's rock music and it's related to sex and drugs, and I have a poster of the lead singer smoking and wearing a razorblade necklace. I'm an aerohead and a beatlemaniac. So what? I have my own mind as well.

I guess I'm supposed to take this as an encouragement to be independent. I'm starting to hate being 19.

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