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I never thought of myself as a romantic. Maybe because growing up, I wasn't showered with much love like a normal child would. Maybe I wasn't normal, I'm not physically impaired but emotionally. . .there's something wrong with me.
My mother was the clichè chick who gets what she wants. She was famous, you know. The life of the party and at her teenage years, she lived a very wild life. Wild but safe until one time, she failed to stay safe like she would normally do.
She had me at 19. Very young but it's not that rare.
I can imagine her. . .and my dad, trying to make things right. Whatever is right according to the minds of the teenagers who crave the life of being free.
"Hora, dear, you came from my vag*ina but that doesn't mean that we share a common flesh."
Imagining a younger version of myself hearing this makes me uncomfortable. She did dare to say horrible things to me at a young age so why would I be shocked that she's still doing it now that I'm twenty?
We had a very unhealthy relationship. Our bond is nothing of a mother-daughter because she treated me as a liability my whole life.
"Yes, mommy..."
"No, call me Lina." she replied bluntly
And then I grew up calling my mother her first name...
This is the reason why I cannot give mom--Lina my suicide letter.
She hated my existence because I ruined her life by being born. She doesn't give a damn if I die or not or maybe... she would feel better.
If you are 19 you are an adult. Strange how easily people seem to forget that if you get children. At least mother had a life and memories to look back to. 🤔 Making up... what a strange expression. Is it possible to make up what's wrong?