just peachy

Need ta git on dat…

Bitch.

Cheers to the end of my first year in college. It was…an experience, to say the least. I’d like to say I learned a lot, about families…and children…and sciences…(get it, family and child sciences major? ha) but I think I learned a HELL of a lot more about life. I guess that’s how it works though. This past week was insane. Dealt with the possibility of one of my closest friends up here having cancer (tests came back negative, thank God), another one of my close friends is depressed, but thankfully, through many tears and a lot of screaming and finally some gratitude, she’s getting help.

On an entirely different note, this thing with me and Anthony is starting to make me extremely nervous. It’s only been almost three months, but I can’t believe where we’re at. I really, reallyyyy like him, and I don’t know how in the world it happened. but it did. I wish I could just sit back and let it ride, but since I am who I am, that’s impossible. I finally told my parents about the whole thing. Horrible. No other words for how it went. I was planning on telling them this past weekend in person, so when he offered to pick me up from my bus stop, I said sure, told my parents someone else was getting me, and that was that. But I get home and my dad is waiting outside for me. Shit. Apparently he figured I was lying because he could tell from the past few phone bills that I’d been talking to someone nonstop, and lucky me, since our families are (well, used to be…) super-close, he still had Anthony’s phone number. Double shit. So I got lectured as soon as I walked in the door. Even though honestly, the only reason I lied was because if I had been honest I would have had to explain over the phone why he of all people was picking me up, and it would have defeated the purpose of my silence the past few months.

So anyways, I got this whole long spiel about how I need to be honest with them (right…) and I need to be careful because “I know his father,” and yadda yadda yadda. I get it. There’s history there, and it didn’t turn out so great. But I have a mind of my own. I have many, many differences from my parents. So does he. Plus, maybe if someone would just FREAKING TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED between our families, I would be able to better grasp the situation. The point is, my dad wouldn’t tell me that he doesn’t want me seeing him, but really, he doesn’t want me seeing him. But I can make my own decision. REALLY? Who puts that on their child?

I was terrified out of my mind to talk to my mom, because I had no idea what she would say about it. I knew she knew, but it was one of those “I have to hear it from you” deals. So I put it off all weekend and even the entire car ride up here. After dinner tonight, walking back from the visitor parking in the stadium, I just said it. And I wanted to die after her reaction. She asked if he had changed, and I asked her what she meant, and she goes, “well, I never really liked him.” Matter-of-factly. Just like that. Good thing my parents are so happy for me.

Then we get up to my room and she tells me how much she loves me and that she just doesn’t want to see me hurt and no one will ever be good enough for her little girl. Okay, gotcha. And then she says she wishes that I could talk to her about stuff. Here’s the thing: I tell my mom EVERYTHING. We really are close. But when it comes to guys, I can’t tell her or my dad anything because of the way they treat the subject. It’s ridiculous. So then she starts crying and says it killed her that she knew for so long but I didn’t tell her until now, and then I started crying because she was crying (but mainly because both of my parents are crazy). 

Now she’s asleep on the other bed in my room and I can’t even lay down because I’m just so…mad? No…upset? I guess. Why can’t my parents for once just be happy that I’m happy? I’m in college now. My life is really MY life. They need to understand that while I’m still growing and learning, I can, believe it or not, make my own decisions. Anthony is a great guy. He’s smart. He’s not a bad person. He’s Orthodox, for crying out loud. Just because his father did something once to piss you off does not mean his son is going to break my heart and be so terrible for me.

The thing that made me cry though. The thing that made me use the excuse that I was doing laundry and leave the room to sob in the lobby bathroom. At one point my mom said, and I quote, “What if things were to get serious? Do you know what kind of situation that would put your father and me in?” I lost it. Thank you, thank you so much, for putting a petty, childish, unresolved issue of your own before my happiness. I’m really glad you guys care. And what do you think dating is for? Isn’t that the point? To get “serious?” I’m not with him to just fuck around. I’m looking for someone that makes me happy, someone who I can talk to, someone that understands me and likes me for me. 

And now I’m brainwashed and am thinking I should just end it now so it doesn’t hurt so much later, since that’s the inevitable future of my relationships anyway, if my parents have their way. Should I end it? Is it possible for me to truly be happy with someone if I know my parents hate it? Is Anthony really as bad as they seem to think?

I need sleep, and instead I’m writing another essay. I doubt anyone is even reading this whole thing but I needed to get this out. I’m sure the ride home will be wonderful. I’m going to say something to her. I’m a respectful, fairly responsible daughter, and I think I deserve more respect than what was given to me this weekend. That’s shit, that they can’t even be happy for me. God forbid a boy makes me happy.