Right now,

you're my anchor point.

Once you said

"I'm proud of you."

I'm doing my best

to remember

how that felt.

Imagining that

in a different world

my mother

would say the same.

That, in a different world,

she would like me.

That I could come home

to a house full of joy.

That the only statement

I'd ever hear about my character

from my mother

wouldn't be "You're rude

and disrespectful."

Wishing that she'd mean it

when she says she loves me.

I wish she would hug me

-not look at me

as if I was an idiot.

I want to want her advice.

I want a mother

I could be close to.

Someone who understands me.

Someone I could tell about my days.

Actually tell.

Not the stupid

"How was your day?"

"Good, how was yours?"

No. I wish she loved me.

But until then

I'll just keep feeling

like my whole body

is being shredded.

How can anything be enough

when your mother doesn't mean it

when she says she loves you?

And I know this feeling will pass.

And I'll never admit to myself

how much I wish she liked me.

Maybe then

I'd be at peace.

Only my sister understands

a little bit of how I feel.

But I can't ask for her help

-she's younger, and doesn't need my burdens.

Nobody needs my burdens.

I wish I didn't feel

so alone.