One hand in my pocket.

Rebel / re • bel
1. a person who refuses allegiance to, resists, or rises in arms against the government or ruler of his or her country.
2. a person who resists any authority, control, or tradition.

Hmph. Okay, so people tell me I'm rebellious. So what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Sure, I'm a dead-on serious nonconformist, in with the out crowd, never one to give in to peer pressure and usually totally comfortable resisting what others tell me to do. But does that really make me today's definition of rebel? Just because of the holes in my right and not my left ear (and the one in my stomach... haha), the chunky combat boots, and the overexaggerated eye makeup, people take one glance at me and write me off as some wannabe, faux-punk, out-of-the-system rebel.

And I've gotta hand it to them: that probably IS what I look like.

But thinking about it seriously, I'm an A/B student. I'm smart. I, uh, get along with people, if that makes a difference; I've only talked back to a teacher a few times, and that was when the people around me were in desperate need of it. Sure, I throw stuff in math class, but so does everybody. I've never made a big show of hating America (even though anarchy is my top priority)... and most of all, I really, really, REALLY do not hate my parents.

Daddy's little girl? Sure am, and proud of it. Mom's daughter? Yup, totally. I like my parents. I like them as human beings; I like what they do, how they deal with situations, and how they trust me and treat me like someone their age. They've taught me all I know, and I am in complete debt to them. They are both really fantastic people who I'm very fond of. I'd say that if a stereotype female teenage rebel vows to ignore her familiás and their bidding, then I'm pretty much the opposite of a rebel...

Sure, we don't always get along, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Done, bitches. Qwerty <3