Marriage. 21st century marriage. Very few marriages last. Particularly high school sweetheart marriages. My grandparents got lucky. Oma and Fred are near their sixty year anniversary. They met when they were 15. They got married when they were 17. They are high school sweethearts. I have been told, since Spencer and I started dating, that we would never last. I was always getting told that my Oma and Fred were lucky. Personally, I'm tired of being told that I can't make it. I'm tired of being told that the love I've found isn't love. I'm tired of being told that I can't do something. I'm tired of not being good enough.
I know that I'm not the only teenager that's feeling this way. It's sad. People will say that a divorce is the biggest way to ruin a kid's childhood. What I know is that that is not true. And, rape can tear apart a person's life, and self-esteem. But, the way to tear apart a person's life is pressure. Pressure is the perfect way to take a funny, happy, carefree child. Pressure can take a person and fill them with fear, and helplessness, and a drive to try and be "perfect". I know this. Because, I'm that kid. And, I know I'm not the only kid feeling this way. The people you go to, and try to get help from, they tell you to confront the people pressuring you. But, what if that person is your dad? Or your mom? Then. . . Escaping is hard. Too hard. And, the waiting sucks. I have two more years. Two years. Two summers of missing him, and feeling miserable. And rarely seeing my love. Sooner or later, I'm going to be counting down the days until I move out and get to be with the one I love and just be happy. And good enough. Instead of never being good enough. And never being able to say that I tried my hardest, and did my best. And have that be all I need to say. And not have another voice say: You didn't! You could have done better! I'm tired of being told I've never done enough. I have a wonderful love who looks at me, and sees me as perfect. I keep thinking why doesn't dad see the same? I'm his oldest daughter. . .
