Being 15 Years Old

I forget how confusing it is to be 15 years old.

One day, you're dressed and buffed and polished in ways you've never before experienced. To your surprise, people say you're beautiful, but you just see a geeky, imperfect kid in the mirror.

Homecoming is exhilirating... dancing, laughing with friends. staying out until midnight (without your parents) for the first time in your life. It's all so intoxicatingly independent.

But the next day, your imperfection bites you in the rear. Your mom told you that people steal iPods. Your dad nagged you to be cautious about where you leave your purse. But you ignored them because you adore the freedom of your music, and, well... it's so very teenage-cool to carry an iPod, and parents don't really understand, anyway.

And yes, you took your iPod when it should've stayed at home, and you left your purse where it shouldn't be, and your treasured iPod got stolen.

You understand that you messed up, and it really, really hurts. For many reasons.

You feel like you always have homework and social pressures and tests. You get wonderful grades, study hard, worship God, do chores at home, (usually) obey your parents, and love your family and friends and dog.

But sometimes, all you want to do is play your guitar. And listen to your iPod...