you always get mad at me when I don't talk to you but what do I have to tell you ? you think everything I like is rotting my brain, you hate my friends because you think they corrupted me, I can't even show you a funny picture without it ending in a lecture and me stomping to my room, I can't show you any drawings I make without you yelling at me and reminding me to always remember that art isn't a real job, I can't tell you my problems without you denying them and telling me to get over them, you don't want to talk to me. you want to talk to the daughter you created in your head, the beautiful smart kind girl who loves science and boys, and I try so hard to be what you want me to be but at the end of the day I want a mother who picks me up when I'm down, not kick me and tell me it's all my fault, so I'm sorry, I just have nothing to talk about
