So…we talked. My mom and I. And things are better. Enough that I’m not worried that she’s gonna throw my stuff onto the lawn one day and lock me out of the house. Paranoid fantasy yes, but it did occur to me several times.
Rather, we’re at a point where we have an understanding. I understand that she thinks I’m lazy and untrustworthy, and she understands that despite her stating several times that she didn’t mean it I don’t trust that she doesn’t really want me out of the house, so I’m still looking for a place to live.
The biggest bonus of this is that we’re not hating each other. But a very close second is that I now have the time to figure out a better way to move out than hurrying to look for the cheapest place I can find and eventually getting stabbed or something cause it would probably be in the ghetto.
Arg…family. How I loath and love thee.
No comments:
Post a Comment