But Parents just don't understand!

Y'know, I sometimes wonder, and oft from time to to, drift to thoughts of parents, or what happens when you grow old, of what happens when all the world suddenly becomes a lot more dependant on you. I wonder when I'll be the one depended on, in more of a way then I ever have been, by giving life to some one. To my some one. I wonder if it's actually a transformation, or more of a metamorphasis. I would be more comforted in knowing that it is a process, rather than a painful transformation. I don't think I could deal with losing my youth with such a shocking velocity. Or, maybe not. It's something to sit upon in my trials I suppose, how I'd like my loss of innocence to occur.

I blame most of my worry, as many of my peers would, on my overbearing mother. How worried I am that I may ending up being the same way as her. She's a wonderful mother of course, and made most of my life much more facile than I could have ever dreamed of having it. All of this facility however comes at a price. She is absolutely and inexplicably impossible. There is not a word that my pass before her that she will not judge and opinionate upon, and there is not one day that will past that she won't stalk into my room and find yet another bland and mundane excuse to be mad at me, as though I were the one to ruin her day by leaving a sock on the floor the night previous. How could it be so unerving to some one that there's a piece of dirty laundry on the floor.

I'm sure there's a multitude of reasons why she should be angry, and that I simply don't understand, however, it's incredibly taxing of my affection to constantly be tread upon in the throes of my mother's infinite yet subtle anger. Can I do nothing right? But I digress, this isn't explicitly about me and my mother.

I feel that the time is coming too soon when I may face the trials of the world. When I may have to put on a shelf the dreams I've held dear for so long, and take up the keys to a volvo. Or maybe a stationwagon, they are a much more agreeable vehicle, though you sacrifice style for safety rating, maybe an oldsmobile would suit me better in my middle age to came. Nevertheless, I know the care free days of this youth are coming to an end, already I can feel a muzzle falling onto my gaping maw. It's as though I've already taken on so much, that I feel the bitter blood my family is so akin to, already seeping into my viens. Perhaps I'll be free of it, from seeing as
.much anger as I've seen, or rather, as much submission on account of anger.

I hope for my children's sake that I can listen and agree unconditionally, as though everything they say is more important than any foolish pride I cling on to. I'm getting a degree yes, but this won't make me some sort of god of knowledge, infinitely capable of solving everything with simply my logic guiding my blindly into an answer.

Mayhaps someday I'll truly know, as my mother puts it, what it feels like. Maybe we all will understand the extreme trepidation our parents feel when they see the trival parts of our youth go arry and cause them some sort of pain. I hope honestly that I cause little more pain, for when my loss of innocence comes, I would not like it to be painful, I would not like to feel I'm losing a part of me. I wish for my loss of innocence not be a dive into ignorance, I wish it to honestly be a melding of responsibilty and wreckless youthful ambition. Perhaps then I will not feel I've lost anything at all in the transformation into an adult.