The anger burns my lungs like a cigarette. I want to scream so loud that my voice is lost in the silence of your shock. You don't listen because you don't understand. You are selfish and wrapped up like a cocoon in you own problems. Everything I do is a disappointment. I am just another smudge in your life; something to cleaned, polished, and wiped away. I am not perfect and I will never pretend to be. The ink in my skin makes you burn with embarrassment. How could your daughter do this? You can no longer claim me beautiful, wonderful, perfect, because you are ashamed. Your inability to understand anyone but those who resemble you makes you bitter and judgmental. The wrinkles that now begin to crease your face will be blamed on me. The idea that I live my life to the fullest and try to enjoy my time on this earth is incomprehensible to you. I hate to be alone but you make me hate your presence. You claim I am lazy and unhelpful when I have been the single force holding your life together. You may not realize it yet but without me, you would have crumbled like a wall deteriorating after centuries of wear. So when I leave to get on with my life, what will you do? Where will you be? For I know I am strong enough to be on my own, but are you? Take a moment and think about that before I exit your world forever, without a single backwards glance.