Sometimes I dun understand why I bother coming home. I get nagged about my hair, about my diet, about my habits, about everything in my life. I just suck with short hair, what, is it gonna take you the next fifty years to understand that? It's the hair that's growing on MY freaking head, not yours, and there isn't your name carved onto my forehead saying I'm your son when I go out, so don't worry about me throwing your face. I like it long, so get used to that.
And for heaven's sake, I'm not stupid. I noe the consequences of being over-weight and etc... I jus dun bother to tell you when I'm exercising and when I'm not. If I wanna sit down after dinner instead of standing like an idiot outside in the garden, that's my freaking business. I doubt standing for five minutes will make much of a difference anyway.
Can't wait to freaking graduate.