My parents don't understand, they think that just because I'm their only child they have to put restraints on everything that I do. Thank god that I’m only three years away from being eighteen because I don't think I could stand to live by their rules for any longer than that. We had just gotten into a huge fight, my mom and I. We would yell at each other occasionally but it was never this bad. My dad would normally sit there and let us resolve whatever it was that we were troubled about but this time he was in on the screaming as well. They were mad because I had snuck out the night before to see my best friend who NEEDED my support with her breakup. I knew what I was doing at the time was bad and unloyal to my parents but I also knew that my friend was in need and my mom wouldn't let me go if I just simply asked. I guess my dad heard the door close on my way out and waited up to catch me in the act. I've always been a good kid in their eyes but that's just because they have never let me do anything that normal teenage girls around here get to do, like sleepovers two nights in a row, taking a small sip of my cousin's beer at a wedding, or even wearing a bikini at the pool. I just wanted to rebel a bit and obviously, my attempt to be a teenager for once failed because here we are. The fighting was long, about two and a half hours of yelling back and forth between the three of us. I had never seen either of them so mad before. Eventually, the screaming came to a stop, my mom grabbed my phone and pointed to my bedroom. I stormed upstairs, my face wet from all the crying. I lay on my back looking up at the stars on my ceiling that I had made out of paper when I was seven. “I don't know why I still live here”, I thought to myself. “Why do I keep up with this. I hate my parents!”. I stood up and ripped each and every star from off the top wall and ripped them on the floor. I was angry, I knew I needed to leave. So, I did.