i'm 23 years old.
i am a somewhat responsible adult.
i lead a semblance of an adult life.
unlike my mother, i will never be wearing a maternity dress at my own wedding.
nor will i get married on the front porch of a mobile home.
i didn't really need to cry again.
she has been on my case about ten different things today, this is just the one that is aggravating me the most.
i don't know what it is lately, but she's been crueler than usual. I hate being here. I hate that my dad, as wonderful as he can be, won't look to see what she does to me.
i don't know why i spend so much energy trying to be her friend. she doesn't like me and i should accept that, instead of striving for approval.
if i could afford to, i would cut all ties. I'll never be as perfect as my brother. i am tied by pursestrings.
maybe i could do it. it's worth my own mental health.
if anything would drive me back to drugs, it would be that woman ... i want a warm grey place where it doesn't matter ... i want to be numb. i want this not to hurt me.