My mother reads my diary while I am at school

Dear Delyara, I am fifteen, and my mother reads my diary. I know because she repeats private sentences during arguments, pretending the ideas came from nowhere. Last week, I wrote that I sometimes wish I could live with my aunt. Two days later, Mom asked why I wanted another woman to be my mother. I denied writing it. She called me ungrateful. I now hide the diary inside a torn pillow, but I no longer trust the pages. I change names, leave out details, and write happy things in case she finds it. The diary used to be the only place where I could say exactly what I felt. Now even my own handwriting feels watched. My mother says parents should have no secrets from their children and children should have no secrets from parents. Somehow, only one side of that rule requires surrender. Tonight, she asked why I do not write as much anymore. I told her I had nothing to say. The truth is, I have too much to say and nowhere inside this house where my thoughts remain mine.