Quayda describes the exhausting contradiction of loving her son while resenting his constant talking. She tells him to be quiet, then admits the nonstop chatter makes her feel hatred alongside love, capturing the raw strain of parenting.
You talk too much. Keep your mouth closed. Keep your mouth closed. How can you listen and you talking? Look at him. That's what I'm saying. How you doing?
Nice to meet you.
I'm Quayda. I'm Quayda. Hi. Nice to meet you.
So why are you angry at your son?
Because he just do stuff. All he does is talk, talk, talk. I do everything I can for this child right here. I love this child, but it makes me, the things that he do makes me hate him. It makes me feel like I hate him. I don't hate anybody, but it makes me feel like I hate him because of things that he do.
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