In this teen monologue, Cheyanne complains to her Grandmother about how strict her father is with her.
CHEYANNE: Like clockwork, all the time. He puts too much pressure on me.
Every single day—KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
(imitating her father’s voice)
“Cheyanne, are you up? Are you awake? It’s time to get up Cheyanne. GET UP.” Seven fifteen, Monday through Friday…EVERY MORNING! I told him to let me get up to my own alarm clock because the door pounding echoes in my brain throughout the rest of the day. Just because I woke up late one time with my own alarm clock, he refuses to let me have another go at it. Like I’m stupid. It was ONE TIME. I am sure even Mr. Perfect was running late for something in his life. Grandma, he’s so strict and he doesn’t care.
Please, Grandma, talk to him.
It’s not just waking up that’s bothering me; it’s just about everything. He’s relentless. If I’m not sitting down at the kitchen table by seven forty-five, I miss breakfast. No apple, no banana, nothing.
He needs to lighten up. He nitpicks over every little thing. I get no space whatsoever. I’m getting older now and I can’t even have permission to sleep over one of my girlfriend’s houses, like all my other girlfriends do. I feel like I’m trapped in a prison with an evil warden.
I look at my friends and none of their fathers treat them the way mine does. They don’t have to be so serious like I have to be all the time.