Le sigh

So my brother called me and work and told me mom had blown up again. Turns out she'd gotten a look at my mailing from The Samaritans of New York, a suicide prevention volunteer organization. The training for it is intense, as you can imagine; you're basically stepping in to help people at their lowest, a job that can't be given out lightly. So she took that as an opportunity to rant on and on about how I don't have time to volunteer when I should be working, we have no money, it's all my fault, blah blah blah. Needless to say, I didn't want to go home after hearing that. He came to pick me up and we headed to Starbucks for a few. Can't wait until my off-days, when I get to spend it with her.

She asks me questions but I'll never be able to supply the answers she so desperately wants. I printed out a quote the other day that said, roughly, "The best apology for actions in the past is positive actions in the future". I can't change the past, so why does she keep acting like I should be able to? I'm stuck in a bunch of fucking Catch-22's, and in the midst of it all is this woman who insists on blaming me for everything. Maybe it soothes her conscious, blaming me for everything that's happened. But that's fucking selfish, I think.

Fuck, man. Just...fuck.