bitch
FIRST OF ALL I'm not a fucking girl. I came out to you TWO YEARS AGO and you accept me, but you still fucking deadname and deadgender me, FUCK you. I did your laundry and you fucking yell at me and tell me that they're not my clothes. Like? I did that so you would be less stressed. You constantly fat-shame me and tell me how big I am when you're three times my weight and you eat literal junkfood and tell me to starve myself. Fuck you. Fuck. You. Mothers are supposed to help, but all you do is yell at me. You told me to clean the house. I cleaned the entire motherfucking house, and I havent really slept in two days. Then you yell at me cause i couldnt do my schoolwork. I CLEANED THE ENTIRE HOUSE. FOR YOU. AND YOU STILL YELL AT ME. I CANT FUCKING DO ANYTHING RIGHT. You're the reason I stick pins in my skin, to feel in control. I bet you don't know that. I bet you don't know that I'm depressed bECAUSE OF YOU. I know you have ptsd about 9/11, but you dont need to bring it up when I say I feel bad. You don't need to try and feel worse than me. For example, I break my arm. Then you try and break both of your arms so you're the one in more peril and in the need of attention. You always interrupt and never fucking listen to me. Yet I love you. I love you so fucking much, mom, but i'm getting to my breaking point. You're the adult here, so please start acting like a parent.
- Published March 20, 2020, 21:34
- in Kiddie Pool
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