I wish I had a mother who supported me.
Who wasn’t so negative all the time.
Who stopped pulling me down.
Who stopped blaming me and only me for all the things that go wrong.
I wish I had a mother I could talk to.
I wish I could catch a bus and go home to visit without having a panic attack. I never see my dad or my little sister or my dog. I wish I could visit the city I grew up in without all the anxiety rising back up.
I wish “home” was actually a home. Now, home to me is this apartment I share with my sister 3 hours away from my family.
I’m now 20 years old and it’s been downhill ever since I can remember.
I swear I’ve tried.
I wish my mother could soothe my soul instead of placing a dark cloud over me that doesn’t go away.