I'm truly doing my best. Working on myself, I'm back in school, absolutely in love, taking care of myself and my body, respecting me and my boundaries, exploring my pleasures.

    And yet, it still rocks the boat how much she's unwilling to step up and be my mother. And I know it's not my fault, I know I'm not to blame. No matter how hard I try to be PerfectDaughter.com I cannot. No matter how much I break my back trying to make you proud, I can't push you to be what I need. And it's still incredibly hard.

    "Look at me!", I seem to shout from rooftops, "Look at how much I can do!", while saying yes to every responsibility that comes my way, do it perfectly, if I can't ace it why even bother? I need to do it nicely, I need to make it pretty, the shinniest, the most natural, look at me, barely any effort, look mom, no hands.

    How long will it take me to get to a point where I no longer care? Where I know what's going to happen and I just go with it. I feel like I did one bad daughter thing in my life and she keeps bringing it back to haunt me. Sorry I didn't inform you my boyfriend had moved in with me when I was 20 a week after he had done so. Sorry it apparently was the worst treason you could possibly stand.

    I don't feel like tossing rocks back your way. I've done that enough. Telling you how you've hurt me only makes you feel bad and I feel like I'm the bad one. For reminding you. For being a living memory of your faults. For surviving it and not shutting the fuck up, "Let it go, Loretta" you say, "it's been so many years already."

   I'm getting older, I've got more on my shoulders
But I'm getting better at admitting when I'm wrong
I'm happier than ever, at least that's my endeavor
To keep myself together and prioritize my pleasure
'Cause to be honest, I just wish that what I promise
Would depend on what I'm given (not on his permission)
(Wasn't my decision) to be abused.

    It's going to take some time, I guess, until I feel like I can say this. Like I can express it somewhere else that is not an online blog that nobody reads, and my pillow at night, stained forever with mascara from my wet eyelashes. It's waterproof mascara season. 

    Spring break is about not breaking myself.

 

When it becomes too much
when I turn out to be too little
when the leaves of spring fall down and
no more purple petals stain the sidewalks
when the huge city feels like it can swallow
everything that brings you happiness
when everything you want nearby
is too damn far away
when I no longer hold your dreams between my arms
will you leave then?
or will you stay
like a trapped little bird
whose cage is decorated beautifully
but who is too sad to sing anymore
will you leave?
when my tears cannot be hidden behind closed doors
when my body becomes too much of a burden
for one man to handle
will you?
will you stay because you promised?
because your word means more that your soul to you
you'd rather be miserable than untrustworthy
you'd rather stay, broken,
than leave and break me
will you leave or 
do I have to keep forcing you
to open your eyes and see
that I'm not worth the pain.

 

Here I am once more
playing a game of Russian Roulette
in which I know that
the cold bullet of another love
will surely end me.