You�ve got me all figured out, don�t you?

You know where I�m going to live, where I�m going to go to collage, who I�m going to love.

You know who I like, you know the �right� way to raise me, you know what matters to me, you know what �my� dreams happen to be.

And the thing is? I doubt you could be further from the truth.

So stop assuming that I�m fawning after Kyle Wrestler, and need a constant report on each sighting of him.

Stop deciding when I can and can�t talk to you.

Stop telling me to leave, or I will.

Stop choosing what I can eat.

Stop picking who I can talk to.

Stop trying to control me: I can�t be controlled.

Stop trying to get into my head.

Stop telling me that you know what I�m thinking, my opinion on everything, when even I don�t know.