Makes me wanna laugh.

It's funny how they think they know me so well.
3 people know the real me. Niether of them are one of those 3 people.
Not even close.
And that's the way I like it.

I can't help but laugh though, at how much they think they know, how 'smart' they are. How they can get one thing right, and suddenly think they know me head to toe.
Please, it took them 3 months to find my belly button peircing. They don't know me at all.

They think they have me figured out. I'm just some stupid teenager succumbing to the pressure and trying desperately to fit in, right? I have no morals or values anymore, because I gave them all up trying to fit in. I don't do these things for me, I do them so that people can see how cool I am. I dramatise my entire life, because I want people to feel sorry for me. And I actually have a great life, and I've had a great up bringing.
That's me in a nutshell.

They're idiots.

I don't 'succumb' to anything. I do what I want, for me, no one else. I do what I think is fun, what I think I should be able to do, what I want to do. I have the will-power to turn things down if I really want to. I don't want people to think that I'm cool, I don't want people to see me as a try-hard. Because I'm not any of that.
I hate people feeling sorry for me. That's why I bottle everything up so much. How can I dramatise my life when I hardly speak to anyone about it? Even then, I leave things out. If anything, I make it sound better than it is. Because I hate people feeling like I need to be looked after, I hate people seeing me depressed, I hate people feeling sorry for me.

They have no right to accuse me of these things, when they know nothing about me.
They know nothing about their own daughter, their only daughter.

It's assumptions, and lucky guesses that are the only reason they know these small facts about me.
My favourite colour. My favourite animal. What school I go to. My middle name. My favourite food.
And that's really only because none of that has changed in about 4 years.

They don't know what I want to do when I leave school, or how I spell my first name.
Or what my favourite subject is. Who my closest friend is, where my favourite place to be is. Or where I usually am on Friday nights. What music I like. If I like any boys. What my favourite musical is. Where I like to read, what I spend all my money on, why I love taking photos, what my biggest phobia is, what my favourite fruit is, what my shoe size is.
They know so little, it makes me smile.

I hate looking at them, and knowing that they don't know me.
Knowing that they look at me, and see right through, or they only see what they want to see.
They talk to me, but they're not really talking to me, because they simply don't want to.
And it's obvious.
I know them so well.

Mums favourite colour is green, Dad's is blue.
Mum likes to take photos of the sky, and the beach, because they calm her down when she's stressed. Dad is obsessed with outer space and astronomy. Mum keeps $20 in the small pocket with her keys as emergency money. Dad, doesn't ever carry any money with him, ever.
Mum's favourite comedy talk-show dude is Stephen Colbert. And her favourite restaurant is Chillie's. Dad loves Better Off Ted, and Thai food.
Mum wears Madame Roches perfume and her favourite chocolate is Cadbury fruit and nut. Dad thankfully doesn't wear perfume, and he has a soft spot for white chocolate.
Mums hair colour is Tahiti, her eyes are green, she's a size 81/2 foot, she thinks she has a big head. Dads eyes are green, he has grey patches popping up here and there which he says 'adds character', his foot size is freakishly large and he has a wisdom tooth that sticks out the side of his gum.

I know everything from why mum has a squished coke can in her bottom draw, to why dad called his car Gus.
And I can look at them, and see exactly what they're thinking. I can predict what they're next step will be, what they're going to say to me next. Whether they're going to come into my room that night, or if they're going to sleep heavily. What time they're going to go to bed, and what time they're going to wake up.
And that's what makes it so easy to sneak around them.

Everything, all of it.
The fact that they don't know me at all, makes it so easy.
The fact that I know them so well, tells me exactly what to do to not get caught.

I know what night is best to sneak out, and what time is the best to leave. What the best time to get back home is.
And I know that they won't ever catch me, because I know them so much more than they know me.

They were still awake when I climbed out my window.
They had no idea.