My room is my mom's

Mum accidentally upset the board which my completed jigsaw was resting on and now it's in pieces again. Am upset but not very upset, just irritated. I don't have the energy to finish the puzzle now, though I managed to do 3/4 of it this afternoon. Dreading the white pieces.

Because of the jigsaw I kind of quarreled with her, again, and she said for the don't-know-how-many time that she don't want to live with me in future. I replied that I never planned to. Perhaps she said what she did in pique, but I was completely clear-headed when I said what I did. In the past I would have been initially proud of what I said in a moment of anger, then I would regret it later on when I've cooled down. This time round it was different because I had already planned it and I knew it was not going to be easy. Heck, I don't even know if I'll ever make it out of this house even (ha!), but I think I'd really like to. For all the love, care and concern that I have, sometimes I think it is a little too much. Sounds like rubbish, doesn't it. How can there ever be too much of those? Perhaps I really am wrong, that they aren't really heaping all those on me, that it is a moderately sufficient amount. There were a lot of times I was wrong anyway and I'm too naive in too many ways. But I know I'd like to have a little more freedom.

My room that really isn't my room, it's part of my parents' house. The walls of my room are mine, but not technically either and I have no right to claim them. As a result, I had no right to choose the colour I wanted my room painted in. Or the way the furniture is to be arranged either. What minor matters! Looks like I'm still the same.

Maybe it's because it hasn't been long since we moved in, or because I spent the best of my years in another house, but this place don't seem like home. With the maid walking in and out, with people opening and closing my wardrobe, mum coming in and telling me one day that she'll buy a bookshelf for me after CNY (though I have completely no intention of buying one because a section of my wardrobe is already completely dedicated to my books and other stuff), I feel like my privacy is invaded. Haha, what rights to privacy do I have? It's my family! Not to mention that it's perfectly normal for my mother to open my wardrobe to put stuff in or something.

Ok, I should stop this. I'm not done healing yet and am now degrading myself more than these words show. I just don't like how things are now. Maybe things will settle down after a while and I'll get used to it.