You've hurt me so much.
But seeing you like this hurts.
you are my mother.
It’s hard seeing you scared of yourself.
It’s hard seeing you have bad dreams.
It’s hard taking care of you when you have a migraine
from stress in the house.
It’s hard hearing you say nothing’s worth it anymore.
It’s hard hearing you say you will never be happy.
And now there’s a possibility of you having
the same disease that killed your baby sister four years ago.
Fate is the cruelest thing of all in this world.
I know deep inside
that the things you have done were wrong.
But sometimes I feel like they weren't.
What does it matter that you let people hurt me
and that you called me a burden all the time?
What does it matter that you made it seem
like I was ill, even though I wasn't?
What does it matter that we barely ever had food in the house
and that I've never heard you say “Do your homework,”?
You’re still my mother.
You can’t leave me.
Not after everything that’s happened.
If you end up having cancer,
I’m afraid I’ll be done.
I’m afraid I’ll stop caring about school
and my barely existent social life.
I know I’ll drop my religion.
I will have faith in nothing.
This makes me so selfish.
But it’s just not fair.
Why do I have to keep watching you suffer?
It’s not right.
It hurts me to see it.
Because you’re still my mother.