I drive around wanting to feel joyous.

My victory doesn't seem like a victory.

Mother, hopefully, won't try to stop me from working at LaBelle.

She didn't apologize.

I sigh, turning my car into the parking lot of a duplex.

Yes, I feel terrible. She yelled for me to stop, but I didn't.

Was she going to give me her blessing?

As I park the car, I shrug.

My mind is on autopilot, and my emotions are weighing me down.

I'm sad.

Of course, ...