I love my mom.
I really do.
But I don't like
how her words wrap around my chest-tight, sharp,
leaving no room to breathe.
I spent years trying to be
the one daughter she'd finally be proud of.
And every time I missed the mark, I cracked - quietly.
I didn't walk away in anger.
I walked away to survive.
She says she cares.
But how do you trust love when it always felt like a test you were destined to fail?
- mishti