He who sees, but is not seen

My mother and I spoke of school again. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to deal with going back to school, not yet.

I will, of course. I’m going to. Just… not yet. I don’t have a real solid reason, just not yet.

And of course, I can’t tell this to her. She won’t understand.

My mother is heavily conservative and prefers the ‘My Will’ over ‘Your Will’ approach to situations like this.

‘As long as you live under this house, you will go to school.’ I can hear it now.

I’m not living under this roof of my own volition, and she doesn’t seem to realise that.