I remember when I was a child, the fear and pounding of my heart when I had grades lower than a C. How ashamed I felt when you gave me that look of disappointment, and told me that I was better than this, because my brothers never had anything lower than a B. They compared me to my two brothers who were always two and four grades ahead of me.

So I strived to do better, because you wanted me to. I could care less about my grades, but if it made you happy what a paper said about me so be it. So I got all my grades to C's and above. I was so proud, but you gave me that look, and told me that C's weren't passing. Even when I reasoned that I had no D's or F's, you told me to do better.

Each year I had less and less C's. My oldest brother graduated with straight A's. My other brother let his grades slip and started flunking all of his classes. Yet, still gave me that disappointed look about my one or two C's while doing everything you can to help my brother get his grades up.

Finally came the year, I had done it. All A's and B's, all four semesters of tenth grade. How I ran home, and waited to show you, so you would be proud. When you did, I got no reaction. You took us out to dinner because my brother finally made his grades above C's. Then you told me to keep going, get those B's up.

I ruled it off as a fluke. Though I despised them the whole year later. I questioned, why they didn't hold him to the standard they held me at. Why did they let him get away with so much.

Then I graduated, you told me to be in college, have a job, or get out. After many discussions on getting me to not join the military, I got into college. Just a community college, but still. Then you told me to get a job.

So I got a small theater technician job at the college. But you told me to get a real job. I applied everywhere and got a job at McDonald's. You finally were content for the time being. But every day I died inside. I dreaded going to the job, I hated it with a passion that I cried every time before going in. I felt sick, I wanted to quit. I didn't have a job lined up, but I wanted to quit.

So I did. You pressured me further to get a new one or to go back. So finally I got a job at Sears. I like it here, but you didn't like the hours at first, told me to get a second job. I stuck with it, and when holiday season came about you were happy with the 35 hours a week I had been getting, but my classes suffered because of it. Now holiday was long over.

Transfered to a new department in the store, one far easier for me to do, since I no longer am required to sell the credit cards to people, since that was all they cared about. And getting more hours too. But you somehow got it in your head that this is bad, I need a new job, I need a second job. You tell me that some place is hiring every single god damn day.

Till today, just now I realized, you never did this to my brothers. You told them to get more hours like you did me. When I finally did, you still don't think it's good enough. You never thought I was good enough to meet your standards, because once I got there you raised it higher.

I am not good enough to meet your standards and I hope I never will. I am not going to break my back and stress over a life you want for me, a life I don't even want for myself. Rebellious_Soul just started off as a regular username I thought was cool, but in reality I am because every time I rebel against these horrible ideas you have for me, I'm happy.

All I wanted from you, my parents, was to accept that I am not good enough but that's okay.