By definition, the word independent means: free from outside control; not depending on another’s authority. As I have mentioned many, many times, I am sixteen. I am put under the category of “rebellious teenager”, as are most kids my age. And yes, this may somewhat be true. God knows I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut, and this has gotten me into a few problems recently. But with every slip-up, I learn a lesson. Yes, this is a tad cliché, but I can’t say it’s not the truth. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way and that’s just how life is.

Here’s what I’ve been wondering, as my personality gets sassier each day, why? Why did I just say that? Why did I just slam the door? Maybe, asking yourself why is a part of growing up. And maybe, growing up is why. As a teenager, I’m looking for independence. I think.

There’s different degrees of independence however.. and that is the problem. I want freedom. But not too much freedom, I don’t want my own house yet. I don’t want to pay bills. I take very long, hot, showers that I could not afford on my own.

I want power. I want to be the boss of me. I want to do what I want, when I want. But not too much power. If I did what I wanted when I wanted, I would lay in my bed, hair in a messy bun and eat mint-chip ice cream all day. That’s unhealthy.

I want leeway. I want room to move, room to grow. But not too much leeway. Because a sassy teenage girl much like myself needs someone to keep her in line.

You get my point here. I am immature enough to want these things, but mature enough to realize that an overload of independence could be a disaster. I am a mess, really. I’m a walking contradiction. I apologize.

However, I don’t always see things that way. Some days I want all the independence, freedom, and power in the world. I am snappy and I slam things when I don’t get that. I am moody. I get angry. But I am beyond lucky for two reasons. One, my family puts up with my shit. I don’t know why sometimes. Someday when I am not a moody, hormonal young adult, I will thank them for that and laugh about my silliness. And the second reason I am beyond lucky, is that my boyfriend also puts up with my shit.

Not only that, but he keeps me from breaking things when I get upset. And from digging myself into a deeper hole. He makes me look him in the eye and says, “Calm down.” This whole post is inspired by him. He’s the one who has taught me to keep my mouth shut. To stop and breathe. To ask myself, “why?” Without his wisdom, I would probably be grounded a lot more. And I’d be a moody person. Cats are moody, and I’m not a fan of cats. I like being happy Maddie, who is only sassy to a point. Because you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

In the end, everyone wants to be free from outside control at some point in their life. But a major part of growing up is realizing that patience comes with independence. And sometimes, your parents know what they’re doing (sometimes being the key word here, folks). So to all the rebellious teenagers like me, calm down dude. This stage doesn’t last forever, and the less you sass the people you love, the better it will be.

-Yours truly, Maddie