It was hard, you know, leaving.
I love her, but she wounds me. She puts me down and apologizes, and she puts me down again and apologizes once more, and repeat. It is confusing at times, and I even feel guilty about it. How could I ever think poorly of my own mother? I beat myself up if I even think of it, for she remains my mother. We are supposed to be family.
But.
I am her daughter, isn’t s...
My hands could not stop their trembling. I looked ahead, to this old, web-covered mirror, gazing upon my reflections. What I saw was definitely not me, or in a way, it was what I had become but refused to accept. A creature of hurt and pain, filled with vice, anger and violence. Not an ounce of kindness or so it seems, I was ashamed of letting myself go like that. A cruel punishment for a volage c...