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Mum?

Today I laid on my mother's chest and listened to her heartbeat, I felt the tears flowing down my eyes and her hand caressing my back, she whispered to me soothing words of comfort and suddenly all of our fights, all the yelling, all the trauma disappeared. I was five again, and she was my mother again. She never yelled at me, and she never made me cry, I was okay again, and we were okay again. She was okay again.
But then I remembered, I remembered that I wasn't actually 5, and she wasn't actually okay. I wasn't actually okay. And they asked what was wrong, I thought about saying its nothing but the tears in my eyes betrayed me greatly, so I said I didn't know. But I knew very well what was wrong, I just couldn't tell them. How do you tell someone that the only thing wrong in your life is them?
And my mum said it'd be okay, but the only thing I wanted to tell her was to stop trying to keep me alive. I've died twice before, the first was when the first wave of melancholy hit me, it was the most painful death of all, seeing and feeling my 12 y/o self wither away was painful. The second one was when another wave hit me, but that one didn't feel like anything, because death had been following me every single day, so I guess I could say the pain was evenly distributed haha. The third death, I've been going through it now. And it hurts twice as much as the first because this time, I feel like my heart and soul have really given up.
The dreams, the promises, and the people that kept me afloat the other 2 times have sank. And there is nothing I hope for anymore, nobody that makes want to keep floating, no dreams to sweeten my nights anymore. And my mum cried, and I felt my soul shatter as my heart hammered against my chest. I didn't know how to tell her, what to tell her, how to calm her younger self that I could now see every time she fell apart. It scared me how our emotions, feelings, and thoughts were exactly the same. I was corrupted, by her, but it wasn't her fault. No one shall blame my mother for anything. She had it tough growing up, and as much as I can hear the psychologists claiming that her upbringing wasn't an excuse for her behaviour towards us, i decided to shut that door in my mind.
And it dawned on me, at that moment i had decided to protect my mother from everyone even if that would mean placing my soulless body in front of a thousand arrows, feeling the sharp endings dig on my flesh repeatedly, my mum was safe then. But i was gone. I had perished, and no plead from a younger me to the sky could put my existence back together, but then again. My existence was a lie.