Eyes of a Tragedy

I barely have a moment to myself, and, when I do, I sleep. I'm exhausted. I'm busy. And I feel like I'm busy doing nothing. I am fed up with trying to find a friggin college with a Liberal Arts major. It seems simple enough, no? I've been through every college search, pin-pointing exactly what I want and still nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch.  Maybe it's a sign that I shouldn't go, I don't know.

My mother said the damndest thing to me today. She said, and I quote, "I can't wait until you move out."

I was taken aback. What did she mean? Hasn't she always been the one to beg me to stay here forever? Why the sudden change of heart?

I asked.

Her response: "So you can take all of your shit with you. When you go to college, I'm bringing all of your stuff to your room."

Ah, yes, the common misconception that dormitories are actually mansions in disguise. "And where do you think I'm going to put all of my shit? Certainly not in my dorm room," I tell her, "It's not exactly the Plaza. I'll basically be living in a broom closet."

Then she gets snippity. "Well, this is my house and I don't want your junk here anymore. You get rid of it or I will."

Ok. Here's the line _________________________

Here's my mother.

She crossed it.

I calmly collected my thoughts, as well as my frustrations, and walked to the door. I opened it, turned and looked at the back of her head, while thinking to myself Drink Ajax, but I digress. I didn't even slam the door.

Moving out can't come soon enough. I wanted to leave next fall for school, but it seems damn near impossible. I can't find ANYWHERE. They are all Jesuit, girls only, off campus-living or they don't have my major. Great. Just suckin' great. I'll just die here. Alone. In the rain. That's all.

Isn't that tragic?