of rants and poems.

mother dearest.

let me ask you a question.

if you had a child who was mentally retarded

would you joke about their issues

at all?

much less in front of them,

to make others laugh?

because I don’t understand.

I don’t understand how you

as a mother

can be so hypocritical and horrible

that your own daughter

is being driven away.

a mental illness

like depression, for fucks sake,

is not a laughing matter.

her suicidal past,

especially because she actually was ready to kill herself

and the fact that it took months

months

for her to tell you,

is not some laughing matter.

and it’s not something good, either

when you think she’s not affected by it

and then when someone on tv

commits suicide

you say it’s horrible.

you exclaim that the family will be scarred

and that it was cowardly

not brave.

that it was so serious.

but your daughter’s problems

aren’t as serious as an actor

that you saw one movie of.

you don’t know if she’s still suicidal.

you don’t know if she still has depression.

you don’t know

that everything you say

is bringing her back down to this darkness.

that everything you say

hurts her

even the good,

because later you’ll contradict the good

with something bad.

you’re making her hate again.

hate herself.

and you.

and family.

and lots of stupid things in this world.

you’ve chalked her up to a joke

you’ve chalked

your daughter

and the pain

and depression

and battles

she has gone through.

to

a

fucking

joke.

and if that doesn’t scream

“wrong!”

to you,

like none of the other things have

you need to sit down

and stop controlling the other parts of her.

because you’re being so hypocritical and horrible

and you were never cut out

to be her mother.

she’s been more of a mom to herself

than you will ever have been

when she remembers growing up.