Leon, 15, is riding his bike, to clear his head. Some of his thoughts…
My friend Jonathan can watch as much TV as he wants. But I get an hour a night. I can't even watch a movie. And meanwhile they stay up and watch a movie after I'm in my room. Is that fair? No -- it's not.
They treat me like it's the Dark Ages. They don't want me to read magazines, for God's sake, if they've got articles on sex in them.
When my father gets mad at me, if I yell at him he kind of pushes me into my room. I want to push him right back.
Mom never stops him. She never takes my side.
I'm sick of her. She pretends that she loves me and then she lets him browbeat me.
If I complain, she doesn't care. She doesn't listen. She doesn't understand. I'll be talking to my mom when we're leaving the house in the morning and she just does her nod thing -- uh huh, uh huh -- and meanwhile she pretends to be listening but she doesn't have a clue what I'm saying -- not a clue.
They treat me like a baby, and I'm old enough to do whatever I want to do. They don't want my friend Max in the house, because they smelled smoke on him once. Give me a break. Why do they have to be so strict?
They say they're going to let me get a dog and then they don't. All of a sudden, they say that they don't think that they can trust me to take care of the dog. Of course not. They don't think I could take care of a pet rock.
They have no faith in me.
So what if I burn scented candles in my room? I do it safely and I like the smell. Mom has a fit. She thinks I'm covering up the smell of something. Like I was smoking pot in the house. I don't even smoke cigarettes.
I'm sick of them not believing me. So I wear my clothes a little torn. Is that the end of the world?
I'm going to dress the way I want to. And have the friends I want. And one day I'll have my own house and I'll watch TV all day. And you know what, they won't be able to say a word.
They think I'm so bad-wait until I make some trouble. Some real trouble. Then let's see what they do!
