The Parental Unit [the mom-bot]

My mom and I look a lot alike. We sound and talk the same. That’s as far as the simularities go, though.
She loves pink and flowers and butterflies. I like black, skulls, and studs. She listens to classic country, R&B, and the Bangles. I like punk rock, hard roack, and Papa Roach is my favorite band.
She thinks that we think alike, but to be honest, what goes on inside my head scares the shit out of her. She’s a goody-two-shoes, and I’m a rebel. She likes to keep me under her thumb, but I need room to breath. When, she pulls the reins tighter, I just want to rebel more. She smothers me.
She always wants me to talk to her, but when I do, she always makes me feel stupid. What’s even worse is that she does it without meaning to. It sucks.

I’m not saying that I don’t love my mom. Because, I do. She’s amazing. She just doesn’t get me. [sorry for the cliche]
My mother is actually an amazing woman. She’s a single parent, and she works two jobs to support us. She puts up with [most of] my crap. She’s been through so much in her life, and it’s only made her stronger. She’s a strong, and amazingly brave woman.
She’s just so damn infuriating sometimes! Of course, she probably says the same about me. All the time.

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