I'm Sorry

I've known her all my life yet there's so many things I don't know about her. She doesn't talk to me, her excuse "I'm tired" has worn off over the last 18 years. I have only a vague idea of what her childhood was like, of which a speck is probably true...
And then she reminisces and shares the tiniest story. 
She's like a fruit pie; full of all these bittersweet thoughts bubbling away inside of her. But there's only so much you can take before the pudding cracks under all the heat and pressure. She's been breaking for years but there's so many cracks now that she's beginning to crumble. How much is she going to take before the pie explodes and is ruined forever? 
I used to think that the fruit was ripe when I was smaller; I thought that this pain and hurt and sourness had developed over time but I've realised that she was just stronger before and that the hurt was still there. It's always been there...but I'll never know why. 
I long for her to be strong again, I want her to rise and become golden and beautiful and ripe but how can I help her? I've played my part in making her life a misery and now she can't cope. The proof is in the pudding, she's crumbling more and more everyday...
I'm sorry Mum. 
mixedupmess mixedupmess
18-21, F
May 7, 2012