November 3, 2007
It's been an entire day since I last spoke to my mother. The most that I've said to her in the last 24 hours was a sentence of four words. When I said them, I didn't even look at her. Come to think of it, I haven't even looked at her since sitting behind her on our way home from the cemetery. I am still seething, yet also feeling awful for feeling this way. Could it be hormones? I can't hate my mother, right? That would be a terrible thing. I'm giving myself one more day lest I randomly self-combust.