Here I am, in Washington – near my parents, my high school friends, and all the other things I’ve tried running away from. You would think after six years I would come to terms with all the memories associated with this place. But it seems that I haven’t. It seems that every time I return to Los Angeles, I just keep all this stuff in the back of mind until I have to deal with it again.
I was worried coming back home this year, mostly because I feel that I have backtracked in my progress. Even though I’ve had an amazing year while I was away, it doesn’t seem to matter when I am this close.
My mother and I got into an argument the other day. It tired me because it was the same pedestrian fight that we’ve been involved in for far too long. I understand her side of the argument; I know that she is only worried and wants what is best for me. But she cannot seem to understand that doing things her way is exactly the opposite of what I want. I need to find my own way and it’s hard to do when she continues to block my path.
Last year, I walked up to my mother knowing that I’ve done good. I accomplished something that took me years to do and I did it on my own terms. I cannot explain the relief I felt at that moment. But I feel like any progress I made has been hindered by this recent fight with my mother.
Words cannot express how much I am against this latest idea of hers. After hearing it, my first instinct was to rebel. I don’t want it to work, I probably won’t allow it to work. When I told her my objection, I was just being honest – I didn’t not want to go. I was trying to save us the trouble of having the same fight over and over again, because I know that when I come home next, she’ll just get mad again.
I know I’m being vague and I’ll probably get more into it later. I’m just … I wish I could explain to her that I really really don’t want to do this.