Oh hey there, mam, I didn't see you behind that massive wall of bitchiness.
Okay, okay, I know I shouldn't bitch about my mam, at least she's always been here for me, blah blah blah, but she's just... I don't know. It's the little things. That add up over time. Which end with me hating her.
I'm sorry I'm not the perfect daughter you wanted. I'm sorry I can't be better. I'm sorry I threw my life away to work in retail.
I'm sorry I didn't find a boyfriend on my 18th birthday and convince him to propose to me four months later.
I'm sorry I ruined your reputation with my sexuality.
I'm sorry I make your life so difficult.
I'm sorry you get angry and yell at me for not respecting you when I do nothing.
I'm sorry you scream at my dad and I both for not wanting to talk about every detail of our work days, after they've already happened.
I'm sorry you feel like you have to scream at me for the small things and then ignore me for days on end, because I don't know how to make things better.
I'm sorry ou felt so ashamed by my sexuality that whilst you could say you were okay with it within our own family, you had to hide it from your friends and the outside world.
I'm sorry I couldn't do what you asked and hide it from my friends and schoolmates, now workmates.
I'm sorry I'm not a good enough daughter.
I've tried my hardest, through all the years. I don't do anything in my social life at the moment because I give all my money to you. I try my hardest to help out but I'm sorry if, after spending 13 hours at work, I just want to go to sleep rather then dust your house from top to bottom for the second time that day.
I'm sorry that I want to go out and have fun while I can.
I'm sorry that I want to meet girls rather then boys.
I'm sorry I'm not perfect.
I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you.
But if f*cking hurts, when you tell other people's kids how proud you are of them for graduating high school, when you left ten minutes after my graduation because you wanted to do other things. It hurts when you tell other people how proud you are of them for getting jobs when you threaten to interfere with mine every few days because I'm not on a contract or because I had a bad day. It hurts when you tell me to be out and proud and accept myself, but ban me from putting anything on Facebook or interacting with girls like that in public spaces where people can see. It hurts when you go watch someone else's kid at sports day but refuse to go see my soccer matches.
It hurts.
End rant.
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