can I please grow up now?

Oh, Abilene, i claim to love you.. and in a sense I do. I love being my own person, making my own decisions, living away from home.. but, wait, what am I really claiming here?
This is my home.. 8 months out of the year.. and how am I living it?
Am I being my own person? Or merely following the path set before me by my peers.
My own decisions? Hardly. More often than not I'm falling subjective to the will of my friends who insist I 'be more social'. More social? Your pathetic idea of being 'social' reeks of the stale smell of beer and liquor.
'You should really try to be social, Brit. Meet new people.'
Sure, I'll meet to people. First, let me down 5 beers and a few shots so I can get past my excruciating social anxiety and converse with people whom will be completely strangers in the morning, while I press ice to my head and regurgitate my liquid courage.
Wait. Stop. What just happened? Where is the independent person I claim to be?
The reflection in the mirror seems exhausted. Eyes, once bright and intriguing, now surrounded by the shadows of the the night before. Skin, once flushed with sunset hues, is pale and sullen, streaks of pale gray fall down from my eyes. The tears are involuntary now, brought on by the shock of my own recognition.
Who am I? I have absolutely no notion of my own self.
I am that one subjected to the desires of her generation.
I am everything everyone wants me to be.
Everyone but myself and my God.
HE wants me to live for HIM. ONLY HIM.
And who am I living for?
THEM.
I'm struggling now. My sense of self has dissipated at a rate I cannot even fathom, so that I no longer know when I actually WAS myself.
How long have I been a puppet to the will of my friends?
Friends.. there is a strange word.. those are the people who care about me, right?
They care about my well-being, my hopes, desires, dreams?
Facebook says I have hundreds of them. Hundreds of people who look at the pictures of the pretty girl with her pretty friends and the hideous glaze of intoxication in her eyes.
Judge me. I'm sure you all do, and you have every right to. Maybe you could come to some conclusions about myself I've yet to understand.
The only conclusion I can come to is that I have absolutely no idea what friends are. Who they are.
So, here's a test for all my 'friends'.
Do you know anything about me, aside from my appearance?
Do you know that I have a desire to change the world?
That I've read more books for pleasure than I could ever actually count?
That I'm intelligent?
That I would MUCH rather talk about politics and religion than the latest episode of "The Hills"?
That I hold myself at such a standard that I experience a complete sense of failure if my grade drops below a B?
That I am MUCH more inclined to sit at home and read a book than go out and pretend that my ability to throw a ball into a plastic cup half-filled with stale beer actually holds some meaning to my life?
Do you have any idea that I have struggled for YEARS losing and gaining weight so that I may fit into the mold of 'beautiful'?
That I have been hurt. Extensively. By a lot of people. Most of whom I gave the title 'best friend'. Some of whom I had given the title 'boyfriend.'
So,
I am sorry if I'm a bit anti-social.
I am sorry if I refuse to accompany you to a five-kegger.
And I am DEEPLY sorry if our 'friendship' suffers because I am ready to grow up and move on.
But I will no longer be held back by boys who would rather think of me naked than think of me fondly, and girls who appreciate my wardrobe more than they appreciate my well-being.

I'm sure I've offended more than one person here.. but maybe its about damn time somebody brought you to reality.
I guess we'll see who my friends are after this goes public.

Thanks for reading.