Adolescent

I have had it with the raging, adolescent hormones drifting—no, surging— through the halls of our house. I love my sister dearly, but I hate her. I hate her skimpy, slutty clothes, that are mere strips of fabric over her gorgeous body. I hate that her face could be a Pillsbury Dough commercial, for all the makeup she cakes on and I hate her insistance that it's necessary. I hate that she wants a nose job, a boob job, a this job, a that job. I hate the amount of perfume she sprays onto her self, and her surroundings, as if she was religiously trying to ward of bad spirits. I hate her obsession with boys and that she'd do anything for them. Anything. I hate her insecurity(ies). I hate her constant judgement of things that don't concern her, and I hate her trying to be an adult when she's so clearly still a child. Why are teenagers so fucking complicated? I wasn't that bad. I didn't attack my parents while they were steering the car, trying to bring me to my after-school activities. I didn't guzzle down bags of candy like a Hummer does gasoline, and neglect real food altogether. I didn't steal anybody's clothes, shoes, bags as she does mine and convert them into her own. I wasn't that big of a bitch. When will she grow up already?? I'm so over this.