She says:
youll talk yourself into it. Don’t you see all that I do for you. I’m working mySelf into the ground and then I have to come home and deal with you complaining. Your life is so bad. What about mine. Shut up I’m tired of listening to you
i think:
im dying inside mom. I’m dying.
I shut hut up like she wants
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I remember when I used to talk to my Father about how I felt, all he would do is tell me how my problems were nothing compared to his and he would tell me how wonderful and easy I had it and how if anyone was going to be sad it would be him. Unfortunately he never learned so I never spoke to him again.