Sweet Pretense

As a growing teenager,
I would like to be able to have more freedom.
I even set limits for myself.
Sometimes I would go to places
With just a friend, my best friend.
That means only me and her.
We do not stay out until 6 p.m.
We do not stir trouble
Or cause mishaps with others.
We just want to be like other teenagers.
Why can't I make memories for myself?
Why so many restrictions?
You should not be surprised that I would
like to go and shoot myself in the head right now.
Why live when I'm not really living?
It's very pointless to me.
Every decision I make always have to
revolve around you.
You never like anything I do, anyways.
See, the good thing about old people,
even though I don't really like them,
is that they die soon.
Or maybe they're dying already.
Why do I sound so cruel?
Because I have no more room for sweet pretense anymore.