ranting
God, mother. You are driving me batshit insane.
I'm sitting there alone eating, looking fairly miserable I bet. You ramble away like always. I respond with "hmm" and "yeah" and other things that should make it obvious I don't want to talk. You continue rambling about pointless things. I continue wanting to scream at you to SHUT THE HELL UP.
Finally you mention something and say something like "but you probably don't want to hear about that" and I seize the opportunity to say
"No, I really don't. I don't want to talk at all, actually."
And then what? OH, YOU KEEP TALKING.
Not only can you not take a hint, you can't even listen?! I just directly said the words "I don't want to talk right now." Why do you keep trying to start conversation.
And then you say something like "Did someone on the internet piss you off? That's when you usually get like this."
"Yeah, kinda" I say.
No, not at all. Actually, I LOVE someone on the internet. But that's an even worse answer, isn't it.
So you'll just have to continue to think that all I do with people online is argue, because that's what you always assume, and it's easiest to agree.
Earlier, I heard you mumble about "...ridiculous, addicted to the internet."
No, mom, you don't get it. While I do waste away some hours on the internet, do you know how the majority of my computer time is spent? Talking to people I love and care about. Being there for people who need me. Would you rather I stop being a good friend? If they were HERE, would it suddenly be so important that I'm missing my dinner?
I hate how you think things online aren't "real." You may not say it, but I know it's what you think.
Maybe it's better that you don't ask what's wrong, because you'd probably just say it doesn't matter. No, you wouldn't, you're too tactful. But I can read between the lines.
Oh God, and do you know what /killed/ me? When you saw dad's car bringing Kyle home, and said "Oh, they're back, there goes your quiet."
AHAHAHAHA. WHAT QUIET?! I WOULD LOVE SOME QUIET. I DON'T THINK YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT /IS/.
How. Is. She. So. Oblivious.
But my dad. Thank God for my dad.
Earlier he comes in to print something, and apparently I don't look too great, cause he asks "Are you okay?"
I say "Yeah, but he isn't," with a nod to the computer screen.
You ask what's wrong, and I give a vague summary, and you're genuinely concerned. But you can tell I'm tired of being bothered, so you apologize and leave.
And when you get home later? I'm still sitting alone at the table, being rambled at by mom. I sigh, and you can tell I'm frustrated, and you come put your arm around my shoulders. You ask if I'm okay, and then to my surprise, "Is he feeling any better?" And I say "mmhmm" and we leave it at that.
You have no idea how much that means.
Thank you, for understanding what's important to me. And for being able to tell when something's off. But most of all, thank you for not asking too much. You don't make me tell you everything, you just let me know that you've noticed.
And then we go rant about mom together. Because at this point, I'm not even upset about the original problem, I'm just utterly pissed at her for being stupid and annoying as hell.
I always thought maybe I just hid my irritation too well. So now I let it be a bit more visible. Dad certainly notices. But she doesn't.
I'm so glad it bothers dad too. Ranting about her is more fun than it should be. But man, I don't know how he can stand being married to her. At least I'm out of here in a few months.
I love my parents, I really do. They're great people and I'm lucky to have them, they're better than a lot of parents, I know that for a fact.
But still. The tension is building and I'd like to get out before it reaches its breaking point.
I'm sitting there alone eating, looking fairly miserable I bet. You ramble away like always. I respond with "hmm" and "yeah" and other things that should make it obvious I don't want to talk. You continue rambling about pointless things. I continue wanting to scream at you to SHUT THE HELL UP.
Finally you mention something and say something like "but you probably don't want to hear about that" and I seize the opportunity to say
"No, I really don't. I don't want to talk at all, actually."
And then what? OH, YOU KEEP TALKING.
Not only can you not take a hint, you can't even listen?! I just directly said the words "I don't want to talk right now." Why do you keep trying to start conversation.
And then you say something like "Did someone on the internet piss you off? That's when you usually get like this."
"Yeah, kinda" I say.
No, not at all. Actually, I LOVE someone on the internet. But that's an even worse answer, isn't it.
So you'll just have to continue to think that all I do with people online is argue, because that's what you always assume, and it's easiest to agree.
Earlier, I heard you mumble about "...ridiculous, addicted to the internet."
No, mom, you don't get it. While I do waste away some hours on the internet, do you know how the majority of my computer time is spent? Talking to people I love and care about. Being there for people who need me. Would you rather I stop being a good friend? If they were HERE, would it suddenly be so important that I'm missing my dinner?
I hate how you think things online aren't "real." You may not say it, but I know it's what you think.
Maybe it's better that you don't ask what's wrong, because you'd probably just say it doesn't matter. No, you wouldn't, you're too tactful. But I can read between the lines.
Oh God, and do you know what /killed/ me? When you saw dad's car bringing Kyle home, and said "Oh, they're back, there goes your quiet."
AHAHAHAHA. WHAT QUIET?! I WOULD LOVE SOME QUIET. I DON'T THINK YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT /IS/.
How. Is. She. So. Oblivious.
But my dad. Thank God for my dad.
Earlier he comes in to print something, and apparently I don't look too great, cause he asks "Are you okay?"
I say "Yeah, but he isn't," with a nod to the computer screen.
You ask what's wrong, and I give a vague summary, and you're genuinely concerned. But you can tell I'm tired of being bothered, so you apologize and leave.
And when you get home later? I'm still sitting alone at the table, being rambled at by mom. I sigh, and you can tell I'm frustrated, and you come put your arm around my shoulders. You ask if I'm okay, and then to my surprise, "Is he feeling any better?" And I say "mmhmm" and we leave it at that.
You have no idea how much that means.
Thank you, for understanding what's important to me. And for being able to tell when something's off. But most of all, thank you for not asking too much. You don't make me tell you everything, you just let me know that you've noticed.
And then we go rant about mom together. Because at this point, I'm not even upset about the original problem, I'm just utterly pissed at her for being stupid and annoying as hell.
I always thought maybe I just hid my irritation too well. So now I let it be a bit more visible. Dad certainly notices. But she doesn't.
I'm so glad it bothers dad too. Ranting about her is more fun than it should be. But man, I don't know how he can stand being married to her. At least I'm out of here in a few months.
I love my parents, I really do. They're great people and I'm lucky to have them, they're better than a lot of parents, I know that for a fact.
But still. The tension is building and I'd like to get out before it reaches its breaking point.