Special

So my mom came home from work today and yelled at me.

A lot.

I hadn't done anything right. I hadn't cleaned as soon as I'd gotten home, I'd missed the showing she said I could miss, I was doing things too slowly for college and fucking up my life, another child is dead from diabetes and she didn't believe I was taking care of myself. It was my fault for not going to practice tonight, my fault for not knowing where Taylor was, and everything's a mess.

On and on and on.

Just once, I wish she'd say fucking hello to me. Or, you know, thank me for working hard.

Because I do.