It started off with a conversation on how old the Boston Terrier was. It ended with me telling her I did need help and I was indeed seeking it!
How did it go from point A to point G? I'm holding my cool, I can't be mad at them. They can't understand. I blame too much, I rely on past events because she writes my life off. Was I just the boy who always made a mountain out of a molehill? Yes mother, it's not as if I were molested or abused.
This is the holiday time of year. Did I run home for a chance to relax, I am trying to relax. I am unable to relate with some of these people here. Does that mean I'm living a better life? Or what? I am not sure.
I get worked up so easily. I get so upset and I yell and tense up. When I talk to her, it just gets to me. She's a mother, that's what they do. They annoy and prod. There is a generation gap and it's not to passe to realize they can't figure out based on experience.
Breath, breath, breath.
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