Hello.
This "FanFiction" is basically letters to my mum.
She doesn't do the whole "heart-to-heart" thing with me, and never reads anything I write to her, so if anything, this is a means to get things off my chest.
It's super angsty, so don't say I didn't warn you.
Okay. So here I go!
Dear Mama,
I know we don't get along very often, and when we do, it's mainly straight after a fight. When all is said and done, you win every time, because in the end the mother must be respected and the child must learn to respect.
I find it strange how you enjoy ignoring me. I often ask myself if I did anything wrong. I'd name all the things I did that day to criticise myself into believing almost every action would not have been approved by you, or accepted by you as a parent. I know you want the best for me, and I know you only want me to be groomed into the perfect daughter. I also know you don't truly enjoy my company all that much and that you thinly tolerate me at best.
Today I asked if you could watch the bathroom door while I showered as I was feeling rather dizzy and I was worried I'd collapse mid-shower. It wouldn't'Ve been the first time. However, you refused, saying I was being too clingy and I needed to grow up. Honestly, I felt this was rather unfair, but there was no helping it. I understand how you feel towards me and it would be selfish of me to ask so much of you.
I didn't collapse in the shower, but when I exited to see if you'd stayed outside the bathroom anyways, I wasn't all that disappointed when i saw you asleep in your bed. Like I said, though, I'm used to it.
Im so used to being alone, even if you're right there next to me. I'm so used to you not being there, even though you constantly tell me you'd be there for me no matter what. I'm so used to these pretty little lies that I wonder why I cry anymore. I'm used to being the loudest in the room because I know that people will ignore me most, and I know if I was ever quiet people would wonder. They'd be inquisitive, asking why I look so alone and sad. They'd ask me what my deal was, and try to cheer me up. But the truth is I wish you'd be the one cheering me up. You always tell me to go away; that you need "space". Is 12 years of neglect really not enough "space"? I was being bullied. Tormented. I was beaten up because I was the only white girl in my class. They told me I was fat and had hairy legs when I was 6. Where were you during all this, mum? Why did you tell me to leave you alone when that was all I ever did? You were working for reasons I could not explain, and you wouldn't spend the 5 seconds with me to help me understand.
To be honest, mum, sometimes I wonder why you still keep be around. Is it guilt? Because you let them teach me the cruelty I needed in order to live in this world? Is it because grandmother told you to look after me? Grandmother raised me, you know. She raised me to be kind and gentle. I wasn't taught to fight or defend myself, because I'm a girl. But even though she taught me how love works, she couldn't quite tell me why mama was never home. She couldn't help me to understand why you'd never look at me or help me with my homework when I got stuck. I could never make any friends because I wasn't allowed any. I was kept in seclusion for most of my life, mum, and it doesn't matter how old I get, I can't shake it.
I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore, mum. I don't know how to tell what my emotions are since I'm not allowed those either. I always have to act happy and confident. I have to mask my pain and continue on in the day, knowing that an empty house was all that awaited me when I returned.
I'm smiling, mum. You can't see it because you fell asleep before my shower ended, but I'm smiling just like you told me to. I'm smiling to hide how much it hurts to be alone. I'm smiling to help me squash the unwanted emotions. I need to be empty, because emptiness is easier to deal with than tasting joy. It's easier to think when all the little voices in my head telling me how wrong this is are finally quiet. They're sleeping, mum, just like you. In the morning they'll wake up to. They'll give me nightmares when the sun rises. They'll crash into me with all my suppressed anger; my self-hatred for ever letting your oppression take hold.
But I love you, mama. That love stops me from leaving. This love tightens your grip on me, dictating how I show myself to people; to the world. It controls me, like a marionette awaiting it's master's orders. I'm like your personal doll.
Are you happy, mama? I hope you are. If you're happy then it's all worth it. This pain, this mental strain trying to fight your control. It's all worth it if you're happy.
Because you are the mother, and I am your daughter.
I love you Mama.
Signed,
-lmBH