while growing up, I understood very quickly that everyone get their wings clipped at some point of life. some sooner than others but we are all going to lose our wings. and one day I looked at my mother, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other and the sadness in her eyes. and I knew. I knew her wings were definitely clipped the day she gave birth to me.
I looked in the mirror earlier, and I swear it was my mother. we do not share any particular facial features, I am almost a copy of my father. but it was her. it was her tiredness I saw on my skin, her sadness I recognized in my eyes. sometimes I find myself with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other and I realize that my wings got clipped the day I knew that my mother would never like me. of course she loves me, but she does not like me. I stole her life and ruined her dreams. there is that special time in daughterhood when you are done trying to make her proud of you and she is done screaming at you when you repeat mistakes she made before you, you are both done trying to make each other understand that you hate them and most of all hate yourself, you are done arguing. it's just you and your mother and she tells you the saddest thing you have ever heard in your life. there are sins I'm not even sure are sins but it doesn't matter, I know that I'm not forgiven for them all the same. when good things happen you tend to wonder if it was ever bad. it was always good, wasn't it? you probably just overreacted. your mother always says that you are dramatic and that you exaggerate a lot. she says it's the writer in you.
your mother is a very good liar;
you learned from the best.
