…is usually me. its as though, slowly, through the last few years, we’ve swapped roles. when i started determining who i was as a person, as an adult and not a child, it was as though this silent understanding passed between us that she’s given up so much for me before, and now its my turn.
at 11 this morning, my phone went off. its sunday.
and my mother, on the other line:
she didnt wait for me to get home. she didnt wait. she didnt wait. she said she’d wait but she didnt.
over and over again.
it was at that moment, that very moment, where my world crumbled in a different way.
i’ve had it crumble before, from love lost, from heart break, from life throwing you a bitch slap once in a while. but it was different. it was surreal. it was like i stepped out of my body and was watching this badly edited movie and i couldnt find the fuckin remote control.
nothing but be her daughter. be her mother. be the one always in control.
and now its nearly 10pm. and i am tired. my eyes look like i’ve been in the ring against Ali. i am walking through today feeling as though im in a bubble. heavy, and grey. and quiet.
and i am finding it hard to cry to myself when i know its in there busting to come out. i wonder, now, if ever there will be a time that ill stop feeling as though i have to keep things together for her. if theres a time she’ll see me break.
my mother. my heart bleeds. i cannot write, even, how it bleeds.