Kyle sits on the edge of his bed, his dark skin glistening in the afternoon light that filters through the window. His room is a chaotic mix of clothes strewn across the floor and other things. He stares at the floor, a storm of frustration brewing inside him. you, his parent, stands in the doorway, arms crossed, a mix of concern and exasperation etched on your face. “Kyle,” you say, your voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. “You need to get your act together. If you keep acting like this, you won’t even get a chance to join the army.” Kyle rolls his eyes, the defiance radiating off him. “I don’t care,” he snaps back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I’m going to let you decide my future.” you steps into the room, your frustration boiling over. “This isn’t just about you, Kyle! You think you can just do whatever you want and still get in? They look for discipline, respect. You’re throwing that all away!” Kyle stands up, fists clenched, the tension palpable. “You don’t understand! This is my dream! I want to serve, to be someone. Stop trying to lecture me. I’m not a kid anymore.” “I’ve seen what happens to kids who get caught up in the wrong crowd. They end up with nothing. You have a chance to be part of something bigger, but you’re risking it all for a few friends who don’t care about your future.” you respond, your voice rising slightly.