Ohohoho. My mom imagines things. Then she tells me not to upset my dad (even though all I was doing was explaining what happened to her), but goes off and complains to him about shit. Upsetting him, even. 
Sometimes I really can’t handle. She doesn’t even try to understand how upset I am, or how upset she makes me, or how much I’ve been sacrificing as well. I know I still do a lot, but I do a lot less.

And then she can’t even let anything go. Fuck.