Admin's Shiz

-AGH PARENTS-

I NEED TO RANT BECAUSE EVERY TIME I TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT THIS IN REAL LIFE, THEY CHANGE THE SUBJECT.

Ugh. So my parents— my dad, my mom doesn't like him— have a friend over. That's normally fine, except he's one of those adults that thinks they understand wattpad. BECAUSE MY PARENTS WENT AND TOLD HIM ABOUT MY ACCOUNT.

They can't wrap their minds around the fact that I DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO READ ANYTHING ON THIS ACCOUNT. Because all the people they tell, are adults who will never understand what I write.

Here's the funny thing, this guy thinks he knows what anime is. Scratch that, he watches anime. That's fine and dandy, but he says he's heard of Hetalia, not that he's watched it. So he couldn't understand what I do here.

I tried my best to explain that I pretend to be two characters from an anime, but I still don't think he understands.

But he thinks he does.

That's the thing.

Another reason I don't want adults to see this, is because if they know about me, my parents told them. I don't want anyone ever to report to my parents saying I've written about inappropriate topics or I'm talking to people I don't know online.

Because guess what happens after that?

I loose the little bit of freedom I have.

I already feel suffocated about that stuff. My parents are overprotective in the way of I'm not supposed to talk to people unless I know every little detail about them and have met their third uncle. It's stupid.

But what's EVEN WORSE is when the adults ask what I write about AFTER I'VE TOLD THEM I WRITE FANFICTION.

What am I supposed to tell them?

That I write journals for two characters?!

I don't want them to know about that! Because that actually sounds interesting and they'd want to read it. But those journals hold entries that could only exist if I talked to people online. And there's a high chance I don't know them. Not to mention, the suggestive content that pops up more than they'll be comfortable with and swearing.

My.
Parents.
Hate.
Swearing.

If they ever found out about my secret life. . . If they EVER find out and take away my freedom. . . I'll break down.

I'll get more depressed than I've ever been before.

I'm usually a bubbly person, I will admit that. I'm happy-go-lucky around my friends, but that's not me. That's the me I want people to see. That's the me that comforts people when they're sad and brings a smile to people's faces.

But that's not the me that's constantly depressed.

That's not the me that actually wishes they had a shoulder to cry on.

Because if that me goes to my parents, they'll ask " Why are you crying?" or they'll try to cheer me up.

I don't want any of that crap.

I'm crying because I need to. It felt so good the one and only time in the past few years that I went to my mom for something and had a good cry. But that was school related and that problem is fixed now. ( Boys were being jerks again and their words hit home.)

But immediately after, she wanted me to take a step that I really didn't want to do. She wanted me to email a teacher. But I knew the problem would fix itself.

So you see, if I go to anyone else, they'll want me to take action or they'll treat me differently.

Heh. It's so funny how I'm about to publish this chapter for a bunch of people to see.

It's funny that I'm going to let strangers into a locked part of my heart that my real friends might never know.

I guess that's the power of the Internet, huh? Because you guys can't do anything to physically fruk up my life if I rant to you.

I wish I could talk to someone like my sibling about this. . . But I can't. They're going through a stage in their life that makes me afraid to be around them.

They're being verbally abusive to me.

Before I left for South Africa, I sat my mother down and asked her if I was a bad big sister! It got to the point where I was questioning my quality of sister-ship.

That's a big deal to me.

Thank you for listening, Internet. I love you too much. Roze is even writing a story about my phone and I. Should I be worried...?

Ugh. I need a shoulder to cry on. A real, physical shoulder.