I've always dreaded summer. 
I don't remember if it's because I spent it alone. With hardly any friends. Or cleaning. But I've always dreaded it. 
Not so much when I was with my nana and papa. 
I love it there. It's nice and calming. Soothing. There's no burning hatred or anger. Just love and it feels like heaven. 
Perhaps this disdain for summer began in middle school. 
When I lost basically all my friends. And my only friend said that I wasn't me anymore. That I wasn't good enough anymore. I don't know or remember. 
But I do remember. Loving summer. The swimsuits, to the sun, to the endless love, to the pool. But most importantly. The strawberries. 
My nana always put powdered sugar on top of strawberries. It'll always be my favorite snack. The taste of summer. 
Cantaloupe and blueberries. Perfectly salted watermelon. Green apples with lime juice and salt. 
There will never be a time where I don't love it. 
And certain smells and nights will forever remind me of summer. Something a teenager would do during summer. 
Making out in a car before going home. 
Working late and flirting with guys. 
Honking your horn at your coworkers before you leave. 
Staring at the night sky. The endless stars and the theater that's traced in red lighting. 
I can still feel it. 
The feeling of coming out of the theater watching the newest movie with my family. Not knowing the time. Going home only to sleep and the next day is a new adventure. A new day. 
You dread school but love it all the same. 
Except I'm the opposite. 
I love school and dread summer. 
I don't know if it's because of my inability to make friends or because of my parents unexplainable strict rules for whenever I hang out with anyone. But I feel trapped. 
Trapped in this house. 
No where to go. No where to see. 
There's a whole city out there. A city I haven't seen. 
A city I can't explore. Because why should I? That's the view of my parents. Because I might get pregnant if a male coworker takes me home in my dads eyes. Or I might run away to where? 
Where would I go? To my grandma Sylvia's? I hate it there. 
Why would I leave? 
I have a roof, clothes, water, food. 
It's funny how I name necessities instead of feelings. 
But it's true. 
I'm trapped in a house that I can't leave because of the maybes. The what if's. 
I don't think my parents realize how truly damaging this is. By putting more and more restrictions on me. It's only going to make me rebel more. 
It could be dangerous. I could be involved in hard drugs like cocaine. But that's of no concern to them as long as I'm inside the house at all times. Except for when I work. 
But I can't live like this. 
If I had a car. I'd go to all the bookstores. And all the antique shops. The thrift stores and maybe even uptown. 
Just to explore. Just to see what the city and my town look like at all times of the day. 
I'd go skating with the boys and go to Walmart to get sodas with them. I'd tell them about being six when I had windows with bars. And how lucky they are. 
But what do I know? I'm just a teenager. A teenager that knows what she wants out of life and is trying so hard to obtain it. I don't have a life anymore. I'm not living only surviving. And why is that? 
Why should I only be surviving. Why can't I live? Why can't I see the world. Even if it's as small as bookstore. 
I've always dreaded summers. And maybe it's because, I don't go on adventures or see the world. I just sit in my room, wishing I could see it all.