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I was betrayed yet again.
I sat alone at a table in darkest corner of the dimly lit nightclub, the pulsating beats of music barley registering in my mind as I swirl my half -empty glass of whiskey. Neon lights dance across my face, casting fleeting glimmers in my eyes that reflect the turmoil churning inside me.
I stared into my drink, as if the amber liquid might hold the answers I'm desperately searching for, but all I find is the bitter taste of confusion. My thoughts loop endlessly, replaying the moments that led me here- each word, each action of my mother that left me feeling exposed and raw.
I took another bitter sip, trying to piece together where I went wrong.. I've spent my entire life trying to be the good daughter-helping out, listening to her, putting her needs before mine and making choices I thought would make her proud. But somehow, it was never enough.
I keep replaying the good memories, the times when she laughed at my jokes or when we'd spend lazy afternoons watching movies together, just the two of us.
I know she has her good sides, her warmth and kindness, but it's hard to reconcile those moments with the way she's hurt me now.
Now, I can't help but wonder if I'm overreacting, maybe I'm being too sensitive, too unforgiving. Part of me aches to let it go, to smooth over the cracks and return to the familiar comfort of my mother's embrace. But the sting of betrayal cuts deep, a sharp reminder that trust once broken is not easily mended.
I took another sip, the burn in my throat welcomes a distraction from the ache in my chest.
My eyes stared at the crowded room filled with strangers lost in their own worlds, feeling more alone than ever.
Maybe I was never meant to have the kind of mother-daughter bond I always dreamed of.
The last shot of whiskey burned it's way down my throat and the fiery liquid lingered in my chest as I fought to push the thought of my mother out of my head and enjoy my night.
A violent vibration from my phone pulled my attention away from gazing mindlessly at the crown of people, noticing that I had missed calls and text from Valentina.
"I'm here where are you?" One of the text read and I instantly shot up and stepped into the pulsating haze of the nightclub, my heart races with a blend of anticipation and joy, my eyes scanning the throng of bodies moving rhythmically to the beat. The flashing lights create a kaleidoscope of colors that only heighten my excitement.
As I walk through the buzzing dance floor, the music pulsed through my veins, and I scanned the crowd eagerly. My heart raced when I finally spotted her-my best friend, the one I hadn't seen in four long years. She looked exactly the same, yet somehow different, more radiant, more her.
