but now. now i want to talk about my mom.

there are a lot of things to be said, but first it should be noted that i understand why she did a lot of what she did, how she became what she became, and why she acted the way she did.

she lost a child.

and the thing is, the thing is. she had two, still, to take care of.

i cant explain it, not to you and not to myself, without coming off sounding like this giant insensitive jerk.

but she should have been there for us.

when you hear your mother talking about suicide, and say that her two kids would be ok.

and when you are told not to hug your mom, because she doesnt want to be touched.

and when she takes outside frustrations out on... not you, but on me, just me, because i was loud, i didnt know when to shut up, i kept pushing things, when she takes it out on me with slaps and all.

i start to think maybe i would be ok without her.

then slowly she starts to work out of her depression. to come off those pills she was addicted to. slowly she wants to really be a mom again.

i didnt buy it.

i dont still. i guess.

and its this weird contradiction of hating everything shes done to me, but at the same time not being able to do anything about it because im afraid of hurting her.

and so i am left. trying to be here, when i dont really want to be here. because im afraid. because im still a little kid. because i dont believe her very often. because i know leaving would kill her.

because i cant do that to my sister. or my dad.

to her.