I Protest

That's it. I've had it.

I've had it with having to do things I don't want to do. I've had it with going places I don't want to go. I don't care if it makes me a better person. I don't care if it's good for the people around me. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

I get to make my own choices.

I'm an adult.

Oh really?

Guess what?

Adults get to do things they don't want to do. Adults get to go places they don't want to go. Adults get to endure unpleasant situations that ultimately result in betterment. Adults get to care. Adults are supposed to care. Adults have to care.

If we don't, who will?

There's always a choice.

That's one benefit of being an adult. No one can make you do anything. You are your own person, and you get to decide what you do or don't do, whether you go or stay home. It's up to you.

The downside? 

Consequences.

Oh, piddly! Consequences, smonsequences. I'm an adult! No one can tell me what to do!

If you believe that, don't pay your mortgage, taxes, electric, water, or phone bill and see what happens.  Don't invest time in your marriage, your kids, your faith. Ignore those things you treasure in life, and let them take care of themselves.

Think that'll go over well?

Here's a hint: Lead balloons. 

I protest.

Yea, I do that a lot. I grumble. I growl. I mope and drag, pout and nag, stall and lag. It's not pretty. It's not helpful. I don't feel any better for having done it because, in the end, I know what I'll do.

I'll be the adult.

Even if I don't want to.