I'm sorry.

I'm sorry if I stress you out, and that I run your money dry. It makes me sick to my stomach to have to hear how you worry about money, and that I am to blame. I don't know what you want me to do. I am trying to finish school and get out of your hair. I'm trying.

And I say this to you, incessantly, and you say that you aren't pressuring me, that you love me anyways. But it doesn't feel at all like you believe in me. And it makes me want to disappear from your life and never look back. I don't want to feel like that about my own mother. It's awful. If you want I can pay you back every day for the rest of your life.

What do you want from me?

I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry.