Hate? Love?

I finally know what it feels like to have this deep hate for my parents and I have no remorse about it. I wait in anguish for the next time my mom will open her mouth. Or my dad, I sit in awkward silence almost everywhere I go with him. There are those times when we're in the grocery store and we have to go down the most busy aisle in the whole place. As we're on said aisle, he turns to me and says, "This is a popular aisle, isn't it." And I stand there crossing my fingers, hoping he won't say it...but he always does. And my mom, she always wants to hear about my life, my problems, boys, my period. She always tries to scare me about sicknesses and things that might happen to me at some point in my life. This morning, she told me that I might break my collarbone. I mean, really?

And I know that they love me, and I guess I love them too.
But some days... They really aren't yours at all.