You know how the quote goes: “If you think you are mentally ill, you are not; if you think everyone else is, you are.”

Does it work the same way with being right and wrong? How about when your mom jumps down your throat for preparing supper not her way? How about when you dad lectures you for not being the perfect example of an older sister? It’s like you have to be perfect for them. No moods. No frustration. No temper. They have temper tantrums. In fact, they have them WAY more than you do. So what’s the catch?

Don’t you hate being the ‘good girl’? The one everyone looks at and thinks “She’s always happy. She’s always clever. She’s always together.”

“She’s always good.”

What if you want to be bad sometimes? OK, maybe you don’t. But what if you get tired of being good? What if you have been frustrated about one little thing for a really long time, and then that one little thing makes it all snap? One moment you’re dancing and singing through life like a star-struck ballerina pop-star. Next minute you’re steaming through life like a train about to explode. Don’t they realize that even the perfect little springs can get wound up too tight? When they prick a balloon, do they expect it to laugh?

No. Balloons pop. You just popped, and they’re all blaming you. Not just your parents this time either! Your siblings. Your little siblings that used to idolize you. Your family has become your enemy.

What do you do?

Bundle it all up inside again and remind yourself that, one day, this will all end. You’ll be in control of the little things too. You will FINALLY have peace, far away from the here where everyone thinks you are the problem.

So if everyone thinks you are the problem, does this make you the solution? If you think you are the solution, does this make you the ultimate problem? Isn’t everyone the problem? Listening to the sounds of voices around you, you realize something.

You have power. With a few minutes of letting loose the inner beast, you have turned your whole family against itself. People are snapping at each other as you pound your keyboard at a mile a minute. They can feel the anger radiating from you like ultraviolet light.

You smile. Of course, you could always make them all happy again. Go out and apologize. Get people laughing, smiling, saying nice things again. You forgot that you really are in control. Their emotions are all in your grasp.

So maybe you’re the problem and the solution. Who cares about their collective opinion? Keep acting the ‘good girl’ part and, maybe someday . . .

Maybe someday? No, you don’t actually want to become the good girl. She has no imagination. No interest.

No life.

Just act the part. You’ll escape soon enough. Until then, use the power you have to keep peace.

Why keep peace, you wonder, when chaos is so much easier and more satisfying?

Simple. Frustrating. True. Essential:

It’s the right thing to do.

Paint on that smile.

Apply the eye-gloss.

Beneath it all twists the tortured form of one condemned.

Condemned to be in a cage.

The cage of collective opinion.

Breathe.

At least they can’t break the bars either.

At least they can’t get inside.

Write your stories

Your poetry

Your pain.

Sure, they’ll read it, but they won’t understand.

They don’t want to.

Why?

They

Fear

You.