can’t we be friends?

I guess we can’t.

Today you asked me what i was up to and how work was coming along. It was the first time you asked after me this year. I talked to you (and i’m ashamed to admit that i was somewhat enthusiastic at this point) about how we finally got our funding sorted out today, and how we’ll be able to start next week and you reply by asking me why the Astro at home doesn’t work. You exasperate me, and not in a good way.

Two weeks with you in India was mind numbingly difficult. Every phone call with you is a test of my patience and my abilities to answer questions most 21 year olds know nothing about. I don’t know how to do taxes, not yet.

It makes me so sad to think that we can’t get along at all. It saddens me further when I realise that we have no choice. I wish someone would understand, I wish listening was enough to help me deal with the confusion that comes with the inability to talk to you own mother.

edit: You called again, this time more agitated about how you couldn’t watch Astro. I told you over the phone how to fix the problem and you hung up. Now you’re not bored anymore.

What gets my goat is that I worry about how you’ll cope when i leave in September. What makes me lose sleep at night is that I’m not sure if you’ll worry about me at all.


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