1:35 p.m. - 02.27.2003
I hate you mom.
I thought I had this total epiphany.
Thought I was forever changed by what was said to me.
Do all this work for you.
And still.
All you notice are the bad things.
I woke up.
Came upstairs.
See my mother.
"Hi, asshole," she says.
She wanted me to get a good start on cleaning up the basement, and make it so she can get to her shit, do the dishes, take out the trash. I even went grocery shopping for her.
I did it.
So, why am I the asshole?
I put some of the food away wrong in the frig.
Oh, yeah. And I cleaned the kitchen. But after I was done, I brought up a few cups from my room.
So, that effectively ruins any merit of anything else I did.
I don't want constant praise for every little thing I do.
But I don't want you to be such a blatant bitch and point out every little fucking thing that I fucked up on.
I wanted to do a complete 180.
You make me want to stay the way am I.
Because you don't deserve it.
All you care about is yourself.
And I could never love anyone that narcissistic.
That inconsiderate.
I never want to say that I hate anyone.
Hate is a very powerful word.
You're my mother, and you make me feel the worst about myself.
If I could hate anyone
I would hate you.
