Dear Journal

I made my mother cry.

I suppose that's a good way to start this entry. As if I don't get hit with enough shit from school; my mother has to completely blow up on me. I don't even know with that woman. Almost everything about her just drives me buts, and not in the good way either. Let me explain…

I came home from school and apparently I forgot to wash the dishes or some other minor little thing. I had a tiring day and I just wanted to get away on my bike and relax. Mother thought otherwise. She told me from the moment I came home that I needed to drop down on the table and start studying for my AP Tests. Well I wasn't inclined at the moment to study. I had a nice headache with some nice thoughts bustling around in my head that I needed to sort out.

So I told her I would get to it after a short twenty-thirty minute ride, she reluctantly said, "Sure". I biked off, spent some time in this nice field of daffodils, some nice old man planted hundreds of them, and I wanted to appreciate them all in before they wilted with the warmer weather.

After that I came home; although I really wished I didn't because the moment I came back in the house after dropping of my bike, I got bombarded. She was like, "where were you?" staring at me with her half-squinted eyes that made her crow's feet show. She had her hands on her hips.

And I just responded that I was out enjoying the fresh air. She made some quip little remark about me being five minutes late and starting to flare up, yet again. She wondered, loudly "why do I not study?" Every waking minute of my life would be studying if she had her way.

I told her that I had enough to deal with at school. I believe it was this set her off, although why, I honestly don't know. The reasons are far too weak to hold up against anything.

She exploded into this massive tirade about me not caring enough about schools and that I need to try harder because I can. And just so you and I are clear, I am an A average student, she's going through all this over one lousy B+!

Then she said that the way I have been behaving has been unacceptable, saying that I am rebellious and need to be more realistic.

"I am rebellious?" there is a laughable thought. If she thought that the occasional leer and slight bit of arguing was being rebellious, then she should see how some other families work 'cause damn, they have it worse.

On top of that, my mother is a realist pessimist. She is analytical and counts everything down to the final detail. I'm more of a go with the flow kind of guy and I guess that's where we clash.

My mother thought I botched up my SAT scores and I could have done so much better, if only I applied myself. Believe me when I say this, but applying myself for those kind of tests does not work well for me; especially when I am alone with nothing but my textbook. My marks were high enough to cut me out of most tutor groups, and all the other classes cost money to apply to, and from what I heard you don't learn much.

I told her that I would study, I just need time for myself. Bingo! Hit another nerve.

My mother chided me that saying that she didn't have any time for herself. How she's always working and trying to keep a roof over our heads and the like. I appreciate her for that, but at the same time, one has to wonder if you can feel love for someone like that. I mean true, she did give birth to me and that is important. But all she does is work, sleep or do chores.

When was the last time that she ever stopped, got off from her rut and took the time of day to just spend time with me? It's been almost two years since we went to the Colonial Gardens. It's this nice garden we would used to visit all the time when I was a kid to get some fresh air away from home. What happened to that? Or we would go there for my birthday in June to see the roses bloom? Whatever happened to that?

The person I loved as my mother has been slowly slipping away, and what remains is this husk that works, sleeps, does chores or berates me to do things. It's hard to see that happen over the years.

She tells me that every day she makes the effort to talk to me, in the afternoon, when I come home from school and ask about my day. I tell her it was good and boring and I effectively block conversation. For good reason, if I actually told her what happens at school or even what happens in my head well let's just say the divan and waiting psychologist won't be too far away. Heck if she went into you Journal, I think she would have more than enough things to set her off into a nervous breakdown.

Besides, she has more than enough problems to deal with; I don't want to bog her down with more thoughts.

And yet through this whole conversation, she comes to general conclusion about me, I just don't care. I don't care about her, about all she sacrificed, how much had to be given up to keep life the same; especially after my father left her. She said I turned into my father and that I was just as selfish and uncaring.

I tried to tell her that wasn't true out loud. But inside, I knew that was true, well part of it anyway. How she can compare me to that abusive man who couldn't control his tongue or his temper in front of his growing children or even guests, I will never know. But that part where she said I don't love her. That part might be true, we've grown apart. I don't really care anymore to be honest. She exists as this working, slumbering, chore-doing entity that spends little if any time with me out of the day.

Maybe it is both of our faults, but I strongly feel that at the rate we're going, we will soon learn to hate each other, only bound together by maternal duty and blood.

It was part of the reason I wanted to get away for college, to get away from all this madness, let her cool down. But sadly it's not meant to be. Four more years I will have to spend in this house under my mother…

No!

Thomas S. Pavaloc 4/20/12

Year of the Dragon

Author's Note: This is my first piece on this website, I guess you could call it venting to the extreme. It's a mix of a lot of the more unpleasant situations being thrown at one person and how he perceives it in his mind. I wanted to break down the stereotypical mold of the achieving A student by putting in some obstacles in his life. Just tell me if the character I'm working with seems belivable and if not, well tell me how to polish him down.

Oh yes I also wanted to say thank you to gmagirl for some pleasant reviews, I was actually pleasantly surprised someone had found this so quickly.