Tomorrow is Mother’s Day; I really don’t want to be home for it though. I just got home from babysitting for your friend, haven’t even been home for an hour and you have already made me sob. You just left for work and yelled at me how I’m a horrible person… But I’m glad I know better. I’m glad I know if I try hard enough I can make it so far I’ll never have to see you again, except maybe at your funeral. I don’t see why you’d expect anything for Mother’s Day; you know you don’t deserve it. And I’m thinking about everything you’ve said to me before… On my birthday two years ago, you yelled at me so much I couldn’t stop crying… I’m sorry if I misspell anything, I’m crying so much everything is blurry… and then just the other morning you were telling me how I’m a horrible selfish person, I’m not. You are. Then many times you’ve said you hated me. You also have called me a stupid Indian, and you’re a hypocrite. You are mad because Regan’s and my cousin called Regan a “white boy”, yet when I brought up the subject of you calling me a stupid Indian it was a different story. Mom, when I look at you I feel nothing, except sometimes I feel hurt. Sometimes, rarely, I feel angry that you get away with this. Why is that fair? I do my best and it’s never enough! I tried to make you happy once, but I stopped trying to when dad went back to jail. I realized you guys would never be happy with what I ever did. And just so you know, I’m not like dad. I’m completely different; I’m not like you either. I actually care about other people… I want to see others happy before I want myself happy. And I know it makes you happy to hurt me, that’s the one thing I wish you weren’t happy about… I also wish you could say sorry and mean it and just stop hurting me. For you to fully understand how much you hurt me, it would take more than you beating me until I bleed. I know this, because I’ve tried it. Remember when I got sent away to the hospital for self mutilation? Yes, I do think you had a strong influence on me hurting myself. I still want to hurt myself sometimes, but I don’t. I think about everyone I love and then the pain somewhat dies away for moments. Even right now I would cut myself or overdose on pain pills, but I won’t because I promise my friends even they don’t know or even think I would. My hands are shaking and I keep messing up on my typing… I’m sorry if this isn’t good enough for you. I’ll try harder if I ever write something like this again. Don’t call me a drug addict either, because that’s something you don’t even deserve to accuse someone of. You know drugs well enough; we can keep it at that. You can’t use the excuse I hang out with druggies so I am one either, because they may have been involved with drugs at some point, but I’m willing to give people more chances. You of all people should know that, look at how many chances I’ve given you. I sometimes wish I could be the perfect daughter you want, but then I’ll miss the people I’ve met because of who I am. I hope you know I think about you a lot everyday… It hurts me and makes me feel empty. I think it’s because whenever I’m thinking about you all my emotions go away. It is because you have hurt me so much that the pain will make my heart burst, yet I love you too so it will turn into a black hole and suck every living thing away, that’s my horrific theory. I think I’m going to stop writing this now; it makes me cry a lot… And I have to clean or you’ll probably wake me up yelling tomorrow… I just want you to know, mom, I hurt everyday because of you. I hope that makes you so glad. Happy Mother’s Day.
May 7, 2011