𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐋

𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔

Damien

"How are you doing in college? Getting straight A's, I'm sure." My mom said proudly, "But honestly, why did you move out? Your college isn't far from the house."

I was on the phone with my mom. And it's normal for parents to want to know how their kids are doing in college. I hated when my mom asked, she just wanted to know my grades. Seeing how their only child is better than everyone else's.

And I use to think like that. I thought I was the smartest kid. But in reality, there will always be someone better than me. And I've accepted that. But when I brought that up, my mom threw a fit, saying that I was wasting her hard work, and wasting my potential.

She's acting like I wanted to drop out. Which I didn't, I just wanted her to stop pressuring in a non-existent race to see who's the smartest.

My dad doesn't care about that stuff, but rather how tough I act. Since I'm a boy, I need to act like one. Which I'm alright with.

I would never wear a skirt, dress, or shorts that showed my ass. Which I considered girl things.
I'm half and half with painting nails. Boys can paint their nails, I just won't paint my nails.

But my father was a bit extreme with it. Or rather a bit sexist. I can't be lazy, a man is always working. I have to be strong, I can't cry, I must show dominance, all that nonsense. My dad is traditional with most things. In his eyes, men go out and work, and the woman stays at home, cleans the house and watches the children.

I don't believe in that traditional shit, but I'm not gonna tell my dad that.

"Damien are you listening?"

"Yea, sorry I spaced out."

"That is the problem with this generation. Always distracted. Can't ever focus on anything." She scoffed and I clicked my tongue at her stupid comment.

"If you were staying with me, I wouldn't let you get like this. I made sure to have you focus and perfect. Because you obviously can't do anything for yourself."

"Yes I can. And I don't have to be perfect. People make mistakes." I grip my phone harder as I try not to shout at her. What is her problem!?

"Of course you'd say that. Only failures say that. And clearly I've raised on big failure. What are your grades? Let me guess, you have a few B's?"

"Well— yea, but—"

"See? When I was your age my parents would have killed me if I got any B's. I try to make you just like me, but clearly you're ungrateful."

"Mom stop! You're acting like I didn't try hard to get into college. This is why I moved out, because of you!"

"Because of me!? You ungrateful brat! I should of had a daughter, or a different son, you're a terrible son. All I want is the best from you, but that makes me the villain?"

"No, you want me to be like you. And I'm not trying say you're a villain, but you—"

"Damien Hudson, I'm going to hang up. I'm going to calm myself down because you are making my blood pressure go up. When I call back, I'm expecting an apology. Do I make myself clear?"

"But—" Before I could finish she hung up.

On impulse I threw my phone, at the wall. Not caring if it broke or not. Actually it would be better if it broke, then I don't have to worry about her calling me back.

Why does she always do this. Always making herself the victim. As if she does nothing wrong, which she absolutely does. She takes away whatever freedom I have, or makes me feel bad for doing other things.

For my 15th birthday she guilt tripped me into not going out with my friends because she was sick. The worst part is that she wasn't sick, she faked it.

When I confronted her about it the day after, she got upset with me for wanting to go out with my friends and not stay at home with my family. We didn't do anything on my birthday, she didn't even get me a present.

My dad was at work, so it's not like he could've helped. And I didn't bother telling him because she would have told him some sob story on how I hated her and loved my friends more than her.

All she do is make it seem like she does nothing wrong, when she's the problem. She acts like she's the victim all the time. And honestly I'm tired of it.

I'm tired of her. Fuck her. I'm grown, I don't have to listen to her sit anymore.

There was knocking on the door, "Damien, are you ok in there? I heard a thud and you shouting." It was Caleb, he sounded concern.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure—"

"Piss off Caleb! I said I'm fucking fine!" I angrily shouted, and Immediately regretted after I heard his tone drastically changed from concerned to hurt and guilty.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you... I'll leave you alone." I listened to his footsteps fade until I heard his room door open and shut.

I felt terrible for snapping at him, he was just trying to see if I was alright.

"Fuck." I run a hand through my head before gripping my hair. Maybe I am a terrible son, and a terrible person. I'm always making people upset. First my mom, now Caleb.

I should apologize, but he probably doesn't want  to talk to me.

Why am I such a screw up?

Ring~

Of course she's calling back now

I sigh as I let go of the grip on my hair and slide off the bed. I grabbed my phone, which luckily and unfortunately wasn't broken. There wasn't even a crack and I was sure I threw it at the wall hard.

"Hello?" I call out.

"I'm waiting for my apology Damien Hudson."

"I'm... sorry."

"What was that?" I can tell by her tone she was getting a good kick out of this. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from unnecessary yelling. I still had roommates.

"I'm sorry mom—"

"I know you are, I just wanted to hear to say it." She chuckled through the phone. I take back what I said earlier about being a terrible son.
She doesn't care for what she does or says to me, as long as she feels good about it.

"Get off my phone."

"Huh— why?" She sounded shocked.

"You're wasting my minutes—"

"Damien, is this how you talk to your mother? The woman who birth you, raised you?"

"Yes." I hung up the phone before standing up and placing it on the dresser.