My Mother

My mother and I have never had a good relationship.

I think it mostly stems from our differences, and her lack of ability to understand that others are not like her.

Emotions cloud her view, her judgement, and her thoughts. I didn’t cook dinner before she got home? It means I don’t love her. Never mind that I was gone all afternoon as well. Never mind that she didn’t ask me to cook dinner at all, nor did she even mention it. Never mind that I would gladly have cooked dinner if I had known. No, she quietly skips dinner, then brings up the incident during our next fight, as proof of her ever-resilient love and my utter selfishness.

I can’t imagine having either of my parents live with me when I reach adulthood. I cannot imagine a worse situation, and better way to ruin my adulthood.And yet, it’s expected. I can see that.

It’s such that I dream of ways to make my lifestyle unable to support my parents, and the burden will shuffle to one of my brothers. It’s such that I hope dearly for my parents to pass away before I am financially stable.

Published by unknownandanonymous

A journal written for me, by me. Bonus points for me if other people like reading it.

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