I wish I didn’t listen to you, you told me I was fat, ugly and a liar.
You said I would become a drug addict like my birth mom, because you said I was gullible.
You made me feel awful to the point of measuring my wrists when I woke up, hoping I didn’t become more fat.
You are disappointed of me.
You don’t know I write, you made me stop for a long time because you said my writing wasn’t good.
You point things out that you see in yourself that you see in me too. But you don’t fix yourself you try to fix me.
You hate yourself for letting me see my birth mom, you took her away from me when I was starting to know her. Where you afraid I would love her more? That wouldn’t have been hard because I was starting to love her more.
You don’t know how dark my life was when I didn’t see her anymore, she was my second chance at having a mom.