
*sigh*
I want to go home. Mom's been home one minute, and she's already yelled about three different things. First it was, "WHO ATE ALL THE COOKIES???? I DIDN'T EVEN GET ONE!!!!!" Then, just long enough after the first for her to come upstairs, was, "WHO WENT TO THE BATHROOM AND DIDN'T PUT THE TOILET PAPER ON THE ROLL??? GODDAMMIT, THE BATHROOM IS A PIGSTY!!!!" (Guess what, Mom, only one of your daughters has been home to turn the bathroom into a pigsty. I may be a clutter freak, but I don't dirty places up THAT quickly. That would be Danielle. Don't yell at me because she can't keep her bathroom tidy.) After that, it was shouting at the dog, because she suspected he peed on the carpet.
And now she just came in here. "I need your help. NOW."
I got upset with her for that. She got upset at me. She said, "Ever since you've come back, you've had the worst attitude!"
*SNARL* I've had the worst attitude because I've been living on my own for the past three months, and I've realized I'm not willing to put up with her shit anymore! She lectures me about how I need to start sending my books out so that I can make some money to pay for my tuition, but she assigns me chores up the wazoo because I'm home all day and "have nothing better to do". She comes in the fucking door yelling, and then gets upset with me when I dare to have a differirng opinion from hers. She lectures me about dinner being a family thing that should be done together when I get upset that I'm doing all the fucking work.
I understand that she has taken out loans for my expenses at school. I understand that while I'm living here, she is supporting me. I have no problem with helping out in recompense. But dammit, I do have a problem with being treated like fucking Cinderella. I expect a little respect from her. I expect a little understanding that I don't work the way she demands that I work. I expect a little consideration. I expect a little caring, gods dammit!
And I'm afraid to tell her any of this, at least while I'm still here, because I'm afraid it'll only make her change for the worse. I'd rather things stay the way they are, than get worse. It's the whole "fear of change" thing, and I hate it, but unless I'm completely blind, it's valid.
Gods above, I want to go back to UCI. I want to go back to the people who, if not love me, are at least willing to let me be myself. I want to go back to the place where I had my own life, rather than the life she forces me into. I can be myself at school, and no one has the authority to force me to be anything but, and I miss that. I want that back, so damn badly. I want to go home.