My Mother is A Kid

Not in a nice way. Not in that endearing, innocent, and naive way.

No, she's childish.

Fucking hell, she's irritating, and if I could beat her up, I would. (I actually can, but it would ruin my life.)

You know when you talk to someone? You expect it to be a logical conversation, with logical reasons behind every decision, and once your partner realises that he or she has made an error - for example, making the wrong decision because they didn't think it through properly before replying - you expect them to say something along the lines of, "Oh, yes, you're right, I just realised that blahblahblah so I was wrong about it before."

Then you expect to carry on speaking to that person, having magnanimously forgiven their slight fault.

But you know with kids, the conversation never goes along that line?

That bloody frustrating little bugger will keep insisting that he's right, just because. Oh, your blood can boil. You can glare. And you can wish to god that someone who's more evil than you will come over and slap some sense into that child, because you are definitely not that cruel.

Yes, you can do all that, and guess what, that kid does not give one little fuck.

Oh, he doesn't give a damn about how wrong he is in every single way, and how absolutely correct you are in every single way. He does not, and there is no force on earth that can ever make that annoying little thing realise his mistake.

Logic, you say, the unholy creature must at least listen to logic, for our entire world functions on logic for the most part, so he must confine to logic. Right?

Fuck your logic, the spawn of Satan spits in your face, your revered 'logic' is powerless in the face of my devilry.

Fuck your logic.

Then, you gasp, how about reasoning with him slowly, using the most simplest deductions? (For example, you are ten years old. You go to school. Therefore, unless you are some goddamned prodigy, which you probably aren't, you go to elementary school. Or you could be homeschooled. Or uneducated because you're just badass and ran away from home before you ever started education. But that's off-topic.) Surely, surely he must understand that.

Fuck that too, the kid snarls.

Fuck.

Everything.

That thing is evil. That thing will not listen to reason. That thing will not respond to bribes. That thing will insist forever, no matter what you do or what you say, that it is CORRECT, FUCK YOU, I AM CORRECT.

And that is what talking to my mother feels like. I usually have this urge to sink my nails into her flabby flesh. I also usually feel the need to roll my eyes, multiple times.

Really, woman, is it so hard to think about something for once? Just because you say so doesn't cut it anymore. If you're not gonna gimme logical reasons why you're doing that, or deciding this, then your authority is automatically forfeit.

You don't lock people in jail because you don't like how they look.

Goddamn, I hate talking to her. It stresses me out so much. Why the fuck do I have to speak to her to get money? Ugh. This world.

(I'm very sure that she's not senile, so she is perfectly capable of carrying the weight of her own thoughtless actions. Also - no, I don't automatically respect people who are older than me. You either deserve my respect or you don't. You might respect your mother, that doesn't mean I have to too.)

Randomly, my blood type is O. Also known as the most common type. So when I get into an accident and am lying there bleeding to death, don't let me die just because you don't know what's my blood type and can't get me a transfusion.