Mother Dearest: My thoughts that seemed too sad to keep to myself

I (don't) think I did something wrong

I am scared.

All the time.

I flinch, though you never hit me. My hands shake in a hand shake because I am so scared they won't let me go.

I carry scissors to cut strings. Strings turn into thread, and thread turns in rope.

A noose, or a leash. Both feel deadly to me.

I am scared of Love. (Whatever that will be)

You lusted after my every breath. I am scared that's all that Love can be.

Not Loving me. Loving what I can do for you.

Mother Dearest:

You and I were the same creature. I didn't know that it was wrong.

I was two.

I was four.

              Don't do that. "I'm your mother"

I was seven.

              I don't like that. "I'm your mother"

I was ten. I was eleven. I was twelve. I was thirteen. I was fourteen. I was fifteen. I was sixteen. 

I am seventeen.

I am well-spoken. I am stubborn, loud, strong. I am stern. I am scared, angry, and grieving.

"I don't want to shower with you"

"Don't touch me there"

"It's not funny!"

"Please let go of me"

"Your Father Fondest Will Not Believe You"

                          I know.