This is going to be a relatively short one, but recently, I turned 18. That means I'm an adult, right? Wrong.
It's 1:04am, I'm staying up late doing Ap Calc homework. My dad forces open my door, and I turn from my desk to be standing, shirtless, basking in the glow of my computer screen. "Go to bed." He says, wagging at my bed, a few feet in front of him. I feel the anxiety rise up my throat.
"I can't right now, I'm finishing up my homework," I reply. He gives me a death stare, and leaves and doesn't shut my door. He knows I keep my door shut because I enjoy the solitude. I would've have gotten up to shut the door, but he seemed to have thought of what I was thinking.
"Don't shut the door." He growled. I sat there defeated, the previous motivation to finish my homework wiped off the side of the earth and into the endless abyss of the night. I sat there for a moment, seething. My mind churns and I hear his footsteps fade away, and my mind drifts to a night long ago, where my sister was awake doing her homework.
I had seen her up at that time, checked the clock to make sure, and the next day, I asked my parents.
"It's because she's older." They'd say to me. She was allowed to stay up because she was older, so I looked forward to it. The years passed, and my sister is off in college. My brother is leaving soon, and I'm in my senior year of high school.
My dad has confronted me at 1:04am, and the clock clicks as it hits 1:05. I say bye to my friends who were on the call with me, including my brother who was just on the other side of the hall, and shut off my computer. I take out my contacts and crawl into bed, my mind still billowing with anger from the fresh experience.
I'm an adult now, so why can't I have the independence of one? I've gotten a job, woken myself up at an appropriate time, and exercised at my own pace in my own time, but why does my dad keep trying to dictate my life?
I'm writing this down so I can look back over it some other time, and see how much has changed. It probably hasn't.