my mother called me at 9 oclock this morning to tell me about what a fuck up i am in life. she also called to tell me how much more of a fuck up i could have been if she hadn’t ‘saved’ me. saved me from what? myself? i don’t know if she realizes that i’m running away from her — have been running away from her. that the reason that i don’t call isn’t because i’m busy, but because i don’t miss her.

i feel heartless. i’m not one bit homesick.

i hate the way i feel after talking to her. it’s the feeling that i’m an inconvenience to the world. this, coming from the person who bore me. yeah, it’s a pretty awful feeling.

why does it have to be this way?