No pretty words.

#RealTalk vol 25

I wish my mother loved me. 

I wish I had pretty words and beautiful prose to translate my mommy baggage, but I don’t. 

Her absence still haunts me. I’ve tried telling people that she’s dead, but that finality doesn’t fit, seeing as she is quite alive yet painfully distant.

I don’t have pretty words to adequately describe how much I hate how this unfinished business lingers in my psyche. I’m tired of the merry-go-round; just when I think I’ve moved on from feeling cheated out of a healthy mommy-daughter relationship, it hits me. 

I mean, if your mother doesn’t love you you’ve gotta be a pretty fucked up person, right?

#RealTalk Central has moved. Read more here.