I have more time and obligation to think while in the shower, which is why they're nice to take when you're stressed. Right now my mind is racing a hundred miles a minute and I can't write fast enough to keep up.
Sometimes when I have discussions with my parents I'm always afraid they will peer over their laptops at me and look for proof that I am a stereotypical teenager. If I have the slightest hint or reckoning that my tone is filled with "attitude" or angst, I might as well be done for.
I often blame my hormones I keep bottled up inside. I cry sometimes when absolutely nothing wrong has happened, and I always cry when I talk about important things directly with my mom and dad.
Part of it would be my individualism cracking into a commuted fracture, because the thought of mom and dad's full attention on me tends to be a rarer case than most. When I am spotlighted, I realize that I'm still the child, even after all the responsibility I've maintained to keep our household a better place. They make me feel like I don't have to hold up my head and pretend while they're the only ones with me. I have an outlet for the victimized tears of stress other than my pillow. They both became my Teddy bear I tell my secrets to. They're the ones who allow me to let my guard down and open my soul like a triptych at an altar. Although they don't understand why I cry, they let me cry anyway because a part of me wants to believe that they know how it is, deep down inside.
There are several times when I can't control it, especially during times when I want to prove I am confident and strong. I cry because I know how truly weak I am in the end, no matter how big I talk.
Rare occasions include those daring confrontations with my parents right after I watch a tear jerking film. It doesn't happen often, but the emotions it made me feel were still festering inside when I forced myself to finally tell my mother an idea I've been considering for a long while now.
I've toyed over and over with the idea. I've met and talked with girls who have done it. To some people out in the world, getting a second piercing in the ear would be an easy decision said and done. For me, it's a new adventure waiting to happen, something new and unexplored. It's frightening in the long run, just like it would be frightening to trust a city bus your first time. There are many consequences that could come form it, like serious infections, deep regrets, questions, nonacceptance in the specific community I live in, and disrespect from other certain people.
My main concern is reopening the patched wound my leaving the LDS church left in both my cousin and my grandparents. All of them believe what they believe, and they're sensitive to certain changes, though I wouldn't say they're not capable of adaptation. More so, I'm concerned by the idea that they'll start to think untrue things about me and that their respect and trust will disappear completely. I speak mainly of my cousin, admittedly, but my grandparents mean just as much to me even though I may think of them as old farts every once in a while.
I believe that everything we do as humans get some kind of benefit from it. Otherwise, why would we do it? After some careful thought and suggestions from my parents, I decided that I truly am using a new look to finally express who I am. Though I do it well through writing, no one has time to sit down and read my feelings displayed on paper to know who I am. Though I show my optimism and excitement through behavior and actions, I've heard that people think I'm not as normal as I could be. Even though I have two best friends who love me a lot, they don't know certain things about me that make me me.
An earring doesn't do what I want justice, but it symbolizes the beginning of my path to joining with my full potential in the mental and social fields of life. It's the first step I take to expressing myself to others. One look at my second earring, and hopefully people sense there is more to me than meets the eye.
There are concerns that this new accessory would lead to a series of habits, behaviors, and attitudes that would generally worry well-to-do parents. My parents brought up the idea that some people dive into the world of drug abuse and alcohol and sex when a new, more 'sluttier' look is taken on in such short notice. Though this is only for some people, not all, everyone has a right to be worried about that.
Maybe a naturally rebellious teenager girl who is constantly mad at the world, irritated by her parents, hates school and chores, worries about her appearance too much, and doesn't appreciate what she had is more liable and easier to lead into a life of the neighborhood tramp. I don't aim to sound narcissistic in any way, but my situation is different. I might care about how I look and present myself, but I love school and I love my job and I love my parents. I don't indulge in new freedoms and experiences to the point that I blow it for myself or others. I have a license, a job, and a trust that I didn't get from a cereal box, and I trust that I I can control myself and think clearly on suggestions that may present themselves later in result of my decision today.
A new hairstyle to go along with the piercing focuses more on the idea of art in your appearance. Makeup alone is fun to have and work with. I find it much more attractive than a blank face. Added to earrings and color in your hair, the same routine you follow fades and it becomes a catalyst to change and happiness in life.
I find it truly amazing how one little hole in the ear lobe can have such a giant affect in everyone's lives. Though I might have dramatized some aspects of the piercing and my boring life, I know for certain that it's not a mistake. If worse comes to worse, I'll have an infection, some 30 dollars wasted, and time to heal any regrets I might have. Though it would seem so to some people, it truly isn't the end of the world to expand and experiment on ideas.
There's always a benefit where there's a consequence.