"Wouldn't it be nice, if we were older, then we wouldn't have to wait so long."

Most days I come home and I'm a stranger in my own house. I'm constantly ridiculed and mocked for the littlest things. People ask why I don't have a good relationship with my brother and my mom, but spend a few hours in my home and it's quite evident. I don't feel welcome here. I think the hardest part is the lack of understanding of me. You'd think the person who gave birth to me would understand me at least a little bit, but she doesn't at all. She says things that she apologizes for hours later, but still sting months from then.

The general rule when it comes to parents is that when you're honest and upfront you'll possibly get in less trouble and they'll be more apt to listen. It's not like that with my mom. Not at all. I still get yelled at and lectured to for hours later. I know she tells people I'm really stupid and I don't think because I went into her office today and her coworkers were asking me to see what made her so angry (the cupcake tattoo), so it was apparent that she ranted. That cupcake tattoo was inspired by her. When she's happy with me, she calls me cupcake, so I chose to put it behind my ear so it was like she was always happy with me even when in reality she wasn't. I told her this and she called me a liar. It hurt then and hurts now as the tears are flowing from my eyes.

Today I took a risk, we were in the car alone together going to get dinner and I slowly let her in on the secret dreams I've held for a week or two and she crushed them. The woman who is supposed to be my biggest fan, told me I couldn't do this. She has experience in fashion. She worked on 7th Ave. in Manhattan after majoring in Fashion Merchandising, so her knowledge seemed to be necessary and plus she had to know that I wouldn't be attending ASU in the fall. I broke it all to her gently and every minute there was something else she added like fifty pound bricks stacking on my shoulders one by one and I slowly collapsed inside, my dreams falling beneath the ground under this weight.
"When was the last time you ever designed a dress?!"
"Where would you go to fashion school?!"
"The girls in New York spend their high school careers preparing portfolios to attend FIT and you have nothing of the sort."
"You just wasted a year at ASU."
"You spend years wanting to be a teacher and now that's all shot to hell with all this bullshit fashion."
"It's too competitive. You can't make it. "

I held in the sadness for the rest of the night, but as I drove home the tears began pouring out of my eyes and I sobbed hysterically listening to "I Hope You Dance." I'm not trying to put my mom out to be a bad person. I love her dearly. She really did raise me well. It just hurts. I just wanted something like, "you can do anything you set your mind to," or "I will support you no matter what." But all I got was doubt. The doubt I knew was inevitable, but that hope kept from my mind while I told her with so much excitement of my plans. She's less than two feet away from me and I'm crying my eyes out.

I want nothing more than to prove her wrong, to see what happens in the future, so I know that what I'm doing is the right choice, but I can't. I know I might fail, but I would want her to be there for me through that, but I don't think she would be. I'm leaning solely on God and the support of everyone else around me like Trey, my dad, Angela, Kiara, Dan. Why doesn't she believe in me?

Wouldn't it be nice?