How can you complain about something rooted in your bloodstream. Linking in your fond dreams.
My mother. I hate to even say that. To acknowledge that she is my parent. I have grown up idolizing her. I have dream what is her dream. Her favorite color is similar as mine. I will hug her from morning to night. But the young me will complain and ask. Why do i adore that woman?
She always makes me feel bad. She always or mostly side with my enemies. She made me collect insecurities. She made me overthink everything beside my means. She basically become a tormentous being i slept besides our bed. She made me hate myself. She made me think being the eldest child is a crime. I can not remember the time she became a companion in a battle she even start. How cruel it is to feel that the young me is looking up to someone who has been looking down on her since the day she was born. How cruel it is to think that this is just me being dramatic. That writing this piece is a sin and means commiting something against her. They said we are slightly alike, similar on how we talk back on our moms. How devastating to be similar to someone i have grown hate to.
11/10/2024
1:00 AM
