Great. this blog made me cry

It seems kind of ironic to me that this question is posed to me at this perticular time in my life. Here I go on a tirade about to validate every sixteen year old. american whiney,ungreatful, shallow, unregimnted wanna-be, boy crazy,under-educated, naive stero-type EVER but I just got to do it. My apologies to Keating.
Anywho. This is the most difficult time I've ever faced, it seems that everyone around me wants so badly for me to grow up , to be sovereign of my own life.. To do my own laundry for godsakes.
The thing is no one will let me! My best friend in the whole world just moved 572.41 unprocurable miles up the road and after he left it seemed like all the lessons to be learned were dumped on to my plate. I just want to write a letter: " Dear Reality, I don't want to sound rude but the rate at which you are sending me the albatross and responsibility is a little excessive. My UPS man has begin taking speed. I think for all of our sakes you should slow it down.. and send 30$ so support the delivery man's children."
Also I think one of the hardest lessons you have to learn as a teenager is not to be naive about what peoples intentions may be. As teenagers we are geared to believe parents, teachers, cops etc. are our enemies and our cool peers are our friends. Lately however as I am out against the world without that one best friend ( wah wah wah I know)looking around at everyone it's almost barbaric and savage the way we teenagers go after the things we want. And not even just the gratification we desire so eminently but goals that are so fickle or minor. I would dump beans all over the person in front of me in the lunch line to distract them long enough so that I could obtain the last sugar cookie. My mom would sacrifice everything for me. She's even going back to work so we can have enough money for college (even though my gpa blows). I've started to realize that no matter how ducky and affirming it can be to strut with people who will sacrifice anything to achieve what is pleasing at the end of the day my mortifying father with refried beans and ethanol crusted in his mustache really has my best interests at heart.