You don’t like my music. You hate my band t-shirts. You hate my hair. You hate my eyebrows. You hate that I get straight As and not straight Cs like you did. You hate that I got a job at an earlier age. You hate my best friend. Yet you love the girl that pushed me down the stairs? You hate my boyfriend even though he tries so hard to make you guys respect him. You hate that I can draw really well. Why not let me live with my friend? You want me to be there 24/7 anyway.