Now it's three in the morning and you're eating alone.

Blogging the minute I get in, before I've even kicked off my shoes and put the kettle on: now that's commitment. Or desperation, you decide.

My mother isn't very nice to me. I know she taught me to read, brought me up, etc. but I don't consider myself financially indebted to her. She could have used contraception. My dad could have had that vasectomy a few months earlier. As far as I'm concerned, having a baby ties you down and costs you money. I'm not a lodger, and I'm not moving out in September. I don't think it's unreasonable that I expect them to pay for university. I don't feel bad that she still does my washing for me. I cook and clean, I'm nice to her when she's nice to me. I behave like an adult when she treats me like one. When I want £10 to go out, I don't want to have to beg her for it. I'm fairly normal for a seventeen year old in full time education. I don't make unrealistic demands. I consider it slightly unreasonable when she wakes me up at 6.30 to shout at me, and tell me she won't drop me in East Ham. I don't even mind walking to East Ham, it's more the waking me up too early that I hate. It's her behaving like a martyr. It's her telling me how unreasonable and unpleasant I am to live with. It's her not even treating me like I live here, creating some sort of delusion that me leaving will make her life complete and give her some sort of immaculate peace and sanctity. Complaining about the bad things, and not acknowledging the good things. I'm talking about me cooking a meal for her when I'm shattered and have exams the next day, and her storming in and shouting at me. Her barely being able to admit that the meal was OK, that she actually likes having people in the house, that I do give something back, that I do do something right once in a while. If she hates having me around, if me leaving makes her life complete then why did she have me? I truly believe that she shaped the way I behave, and I don't think she did a bad job. She's never happy with me. She has high expectations, which I can never fulfil. I'm sorry Mum, but I got rejected from Oxford, and I'm not going to pass my course with flying colours. I'm not going to study medicine or law. I haven't got a rich, clever, beautiful boyfriend. I can't do everything you want all of the time. Yes, I argue with you. Yes, I disappoint you. What is it you want?

I'm not saying all this because I want her to give me more money, or because I can't be bothered to do all my washing. Maybe my sisters had it worse off. Maybe I should obey and accept. But I'm writing this because I can't understand her, and apparently she can't understand me. We have odd flickers of closeness, but essentially I'm not quite what she wants, at all. Should I change for her, or is it her who should change for me? Can't we meet halfway, or something?

I don't want what you want
I don't feel what you feel
See I'm stuck in a city
But I belong in a field
Yeah we got left, left, left, left, left, left....

I love The Strokes.
x