Mother.

Growing up, I’ve always heard the word “talentless”. In every corner of my mind you’ve planted the word “worthless” and your hatred for me watered it, you fed me the word “useless” to the point even surviving felt like a burden for me.

As a kid i begged for your love, and when i grew up i found you wondering why am i that distant from you? When all you ever did was pushing me farther away whenever i craved your touch or the sentence “im proud of you”. You made sure to always remind me how unwanted I am, and how i was a mistake-As if it was ever my choice that you decided to fuck that day.

Instead of hearing good morning, i heard the word “ugly” , instead of hugs and playing with me, i got beaten for simply existing, for wanting to have a normal childhood.

I remember the first time i broke your favourite vase, and how i heard you saying that you truly regret having me, how stupid and useless i am and that i will never get somewhere, i remember how you perfectly drew your hand on my face punishing me for breaking it, but tell me mother, what about my heart? The heart that you broke so many times, what about my heart mother? You broke it the way i broke your favourite vase, and just the way you threw its broken pieces, you collected my heart and threw it-yet i still begged you to love me. You said im talentless til i became a painter, drawing lines and edges on my skin, i became so talented in drawing ways to kill myself, i became the painter you always wanted me to be, and yet you never liked me, i drew your words on my skin, and made them bleed til red became my favourite colour, and pain became my soulmate.

You hated the way i walk, talk, and you wished i was dead so many times, and when i almost died you still drew Iris flowers all over my body, and when i survived you still weren’t proud of me.

Even when your arms were wrapped around me, it was to choke me to death. You watched my tears falling down begging you to love me even for once, yet you still left.

I don’t understand it mother, how can you ever be this cruel? How can you keep breaking what you already broke years ago? I keep wondering, if you’re the first to break my heart, why do i keep running back to you, why do i keep begging you to touch me with love..? Why do i even still love you, Mother? If all that you ever did to me was breaking my heart and destroying my life?

You made me believe that love is pain, and love is violent, and because of you; love is forever ruined for me.

I kept seeking for your validation- I kept seeking for your acceptance and love, but the only time you accepted me was when you saw my blood dripping and my skin pale- only then i saw love in your eyes, so ever since then i kept killing parts of me and drawing parallel lines on my skin in hopes that you’ll someday completely love me.