As I begin typing my first post, my head stays turned towards the door of my room. Even though it is midnight, my mom is dozing on the couch, and I fear she will wake to find me spilling my secrets. At a time when many are crawling under their down comforters, I am prepping myself for a night of pointless "real conversations". Every night is the same. A game of hide and seek for adults. After six to eight hours straight of waitressing on my feet, I wait anxiously in my room until my dad has gone to sleep, and she decides it is safe to pursue me. She'll want to talk and blackmail me for deeds done in months past. I usually end up hiding out in the bathroom, sleeping with my cotton robe as a blanket for few minutes until she threatens to unscrew the doorknob. She doesn't harm me physically usually, but her words are enough to leave bruises that will take years to heal. I am weary. So sick of being called a "selfish, conniving bitch". I don't even want to have anything to do with my own mom anymore, and that breaks my heart.
Shit. She's up. The night begins...
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