The truth can hurt...

I didn’t talk to my mom as she drove me home from the ice rink. She hadn’t seen me drop the boy, since she was burried in her own petty, hipocritical conversation with a friend from work.
“You’re aweful quiet these days… I hardly ever see you without your earbuds in. Do you even listen to The Beatles anymore like you used to?”
The truth is sometimes sad, then again so is life. I got over the small wave of remorse inside of me.
I heard my mom give a tired sigh.
“I’d like to see you more often, instead of hiding all the time.”
Again, the truth hurts… but this was for a good reason.
“Well, maybe if you let me get out with my friends more often…”
“Honey, I don’t get to see you enough as it is, with work and everything. Can’t I spend one day with you this weekend?”
I sighed as more things kept hitting me inside. She doesn’t know anything… she doesn’t understand me…
I didn’t answer, only staring out the window, absorbed in my music…

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