I can't wait to turn eighteen..

And get the heck out of this house.

I just spend the last week babysitting my brother on that God-forsaken trip, when I could've been somewhere else, doing something I'd rather do. But I went because my parents wanted me to. And the thanks I get?

Confinement to the house. Not because I've done anything wrong, but because my parents say "it wouldn't kill you to spend some time at home". Correction: it might just do exactly that. I hate being here, stuck in this house. For no reason at all. They say "we just let you go to Branson for a week, you need to stay home for a while!".
She LET me go?! I had a CRAP time, and she holds it over my head like it was a sacrifice for her?

I am a reasonably good daughter. I don't do drugs, drink, have sex, or stay out all night. I tolerate my insane brother, and I make good grades. As a reward, I get the guilt trip everytime I want to leave this Hellhole.

It isn't fair. My sister runs off to Oxford every weekend, but God forbid I be gone two nights in a row. She's off screwing her boyfriend, and I can't even go to the movies with my friends. My brother gets to act like a dang crazy child in public, buy I can't spend the night with a friend.

And whenever I try to point any of this out to my mother, she cries and is all "well I don't know what to tell you, you don't have to think it's fair". Then she goes off, cries, is ticked at me, and makes me feel miserable for telling her what I think.
I wish my concience would let me just all-out rebel, because I think it would wake my parents up to how lucky they have it.

But no. I won't do that. Because I'm a good daughter, even if I don't get any credit at all for it.