I'm very tired. Of this place. Of this routine. Of pretending. I'm very tired. I just don't want to do this anymore. Of course I laugh it off and pretend I'm used to it. But I am very much not. It's not something I can get used to.
This separation. This nonparallel field upon which we are living. It's just... Unbearable sometimes. I want to scream out all of the things I've been wanting to scream for the past 10 years. But I feel bad. And then guilty. And then stupid. And then whiny. Always whiny.
But why should I? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of dealing with it. I'm sick of trying to be something I'm not for the sake of making her happy; when, in reality, she'll never be happy with me. I realize that that sounds very melodramatic; but if you know my mother, you know it's true.
I very much want to cry.
This separation. This nonparallel field upon which we are living. It's just... Unbearable sometimes. I want to scream out all of the things I've been wanting to scream for the past 10 years. But I feel bad. And then guilty. And then stupid. And then whiny. Always whiny.
But why should I? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of dealing with it. I'm sick of trying to be something I'm not for the sake of making her happy; when, in reality, she'll never be happy with me. I realize that that sounds very melodramatic; but if you know my mother, you know it's true.
I very much want to cry.
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