i pretend like what you say doesn’t hurt me. i pretend like your comments about how i’m “really letting myself go” or “should actually try to do something with my hair” or “should give makeup a try” don’t affect me – but they do. aren’t moms supposed to make their daughters feel like they’re beautiful? just because you say “I mean you’re not an unattractive person, but…” before you critique me doesn’t negate the insult that follows it. and the yelling… can that come to an end? i know things are hard at work, but i wish you wouldn’t take it out on me. it’s my senior year of high school. it’s only a matter of months before i’m gone for good and call a NEW place home. i wish you’d understand… you could have a much worse daughter. i do my best to keep you happy. i’m responsible with my AP classes, my night college class, AND my job. that’s a lot to ask of someone with incredible senioritis. when i come home from school with a B on a test from AP calculus, would it kill you to be proud? i know it’s not an A, but it’s AP CALCULUS. it’s not supposed to be something i can just glide through. open your eyes, mom. i’m not that bad, really.. if you could see how some of my friends talk to their moms and deal with their responsibilities, you’d change your mind about me. i’m sorry i can’t live up to your expectations; maybe one day i’ll be good enough.