I’m sorry if you’re ever reading this.
i can’t explain in words how much you infuriate me sometimes, i know that when you were younger you never planned to be a single mother. i know that you need time to yourself sometimes. i know that you’ve given up so much to raise us. i know that you struggle with your own depression and anxiety and add. i know mom. but that doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t hurt that i know that you probably blame a lot of that on me and my siblings. and that it doesn’t hurt when you leave town for days, and i have to be the one to remind them to do their chores, and to get to school.
i love you so much mom. and i hate that i resent you so much too. it just feels like you’re guilting me constantly and i hate it. i’m the one you complain to about money issues. i’m the one whose shoulder you cry on when everything goes to shit. and i remember mom, i remember those times when we stayed in the car overnight in the church parking lot to get away from my abusive father, i remember all the times we’ve struggled with money, and i remember how much you love us and how much you care for us and i know that i’m not easy and that i can be so utterly ungrateful sometimes, but i know you’re trying. and i know i’m trying too even if you can’t see that.
i love you so much mom, and i’m sorry for this being so mean, but i just needed to get the words out for the first time ever. i’ll see you when you get off work, i made dinner.