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Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #1744362
A young girl is conflicted with the expectations of friends and her Mother.


Expectations

By

Ariana Daniella


Being "different" is the worst thing you can be while you're a teenager in high school. As I sit in the cafeteria, I start to gaze around at the crowds congregated at different tables. Straight ahead are the cheerleaders deeply enthalled in their mindless conversation. To my left are the football players, the complement to the doll like cheerleader group. They're truly the beautiful people, the stars of high school. Then the urban clique met my eyes, the social group that are deeply immersed in the hip hop culture. Next to the Urbanites, are the brainiacs a.k.a honor students. They're the group that I relate to most based on my academic interests. Of course, ironically, that is not the most valuable quality here. I ask myself what table do I belong to? Where do I fit into this intricate web of teenaged subcultures? As of right now I'm trying to find the answer to this life long cliche question of who I am. My name is Patrice Marie everyone calls me Patty. I'm 15, getting a lot of bad grades mostly due to this foreign environment. If I could describe my feeling with just a few words they would probably be "stranger in a strange land". As I have quickly realized, hardly any of my beliefs in my upbringing refelect the criteria of my survival of this difficult time in my life. I am a Christian or at least I thought I was until now. I find myself living for the approval of my friends rather than that of God and myself. I lie, obscenities fly from my mouth, and most of all I allow myself to be used by men. What am I doing to myself? Why do I sit here motionless while my life and inner being is devoured by expectations. Ah.. I do know the answer. Survival is my instinct and only concern. I dare not look different, act differently, nor believe differently. I must stay in my comfort zone no matter how much of myself is lost. As long as I'm accepted by those that look for what is expected of me. Perhaps, I'm not that different from the people I see here. They're just fortunate in finding a group to drown out how they may feel deep inside. Actually, we're the same in a society where beng "different" can be the worst thing in the world.



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