The clock ticks, ever ticking off the time passing. My ears ringing, I wonder how much longer of this Hell I must endure. Steam rises from my ears as I listen to her chatter on about something I couldn't possibly give a damn about. I don't hear distinct words, only an overly animated voice.
I don't understand why she does this to me (my mother, I mean). She knows I can't stand the brown haired, blue eyed girl at my side. Sure. I used to believe she was my best friend. But I've been double crossed, stabbed in the back, and put down by her too many times now. Yet she continues to force us together, saying I can't burn this bridge.
Well, mom. This is my decision. I can burn any bridge I want to. I choose my friends, not you! I'm sick of you trying to control me. Sure, you can ground me. You can take my stuff away. You can make me get the mail, do the dishes, or something along those lines. But you can't control what I like and dislike. And you can't control the way I feel.
You need to stop trying to get me to believe and feel the way you do. Just because you drag me to church, that doesn't mean I worship your God. Just because you're comfortable there, it doesn't mean I am. My skin crawls and I wanna vomit.
When you force me into something, I will go out of my way to make things difficult.
It makes me sick that you can't seem to accept me as the way I am. Instead, you're wasting your time and trying to make me feel some feeling that we both know I'm uncapable of feeling.
Good night, mom.
I love you too...
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