You just yelled at me, called me disgusting and a pig. That I need medication and help. You told me you would tell my grandmother, and you wonder why I fucked up in life.
I grew up believing I’m worthless, it takes a toll. You claim you’re the best mother and I’m a terrible daughter. What else was I supposed to do when I lost dad at a young age. When he was the only one there for me.
When I share with you my dreams, you say, “Well you can’t!” And I hope you remember that.
You claim that if it weren’t for you, I would be a lost cause. Maybe you’re right, but maybe I’d be better off.
I had to find my own way, my own peace, joy, love and beauty. It came from within me. I’m the one who created it in a realm of ridicule, abuse, and neglection; that was all created by you.
I am aware that I wasn’t the best daughter, but I tried my best to survive. Isn’t it a mothers job to care, love and protect? Or is that just a Hollywood fault, a Disney fantasy?
I’m 20 years old and am still emotionally abused by you mom.