mother, mother
3:53 p.m.

Dear You:

Alright. This is getting ridiculous. I am doing everything that I can think of to please you. I am bending over backwards and sideways and forwards and any other way that you come up with just to get you to smile at me, and just to keep our life together in this house harmonious. What else can I do? And yet you don't even take notice. Instead you take it for granted, as though my being your daughter makes it right that i should be constantly worried about keeping you happy. Which I am. Constantly worried. It's insane. I feel like if I don't buy you something, or if I don't drop everything I'm doing and come sit by your side that you'll get that look on your face and that tone in your voice and i'll feel that same old guilt bubble up to the surface of my brain.

Well fuck this.

I'm tired of this running around. I'm exhausted from trying to catch rainbows that are always just too far away to reach. If you're going to love me, then do so but don't expect me to spend the rest of my life wondering if your love is going to last the day. Just let me go. Or keep me. Just stop looking at me like that.

Oh, this is useless.

From,

Me

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