I Hate My Mother
The saddest, most toured soul i think i have ever encountered is my mothers. I used to HATE her, with anger so passionate it could tare down a city. but over the last few years, as i've let go of my past, my anger has turned into sorrow. I used to believe that she had no remorse for how awful of a person she is. She would continuously blamed others for her un happiness, and pretended that the way she would act was acceptable. Now that i'm older and have formed a better sense of self, i've come to notice how sad, empty, guilty, lost, and tormented she secretly is. You can see it in her eyes, even when she plasters on her perfect house wife, pearly white smile. She is weak, she is pathetic, she is nothing but a broken image obsessed perfectionist who drowns in denial on a daily basis. my mother will never be happy, and will never have a real shot at life since she chooses to run away from the truth about her self. I used to want her to pay for all the pain she's caused, thinking that she got away with ruining my child hood. but she does pay. because every minute of her life she is miserable. She will never get to see the beauty of this world. She will never get to experience the liberating feelings of divine peace and serenity. She will never get to truly form a genuine relationship with her daughter. She will always be subconsciously reminded of the reality that is waiting for her to break. I know i will be nothing like her. i have learned what not to be from this worthless woman. she has made me into a loving, strong, brave, controlled, honest, and real human being who would never purposely hurt someone else out of self hatred. my mother has been a gift and a curse.