It's been just over a month since she's officially been dead. It'll have been a month tomorrow, that we've buried her. She was dead the 27th though, when it all happened. I know that, but everyone else kept stupidly hoping and praying. I can't understand that type of thing. There is a line between science and faith. On that day and those that followed, I believe we saw that line. Even if they won't acknowledge it.
My anger, towards them, has faded slightly. I'm still angry at their stupidity, but it is what it is.

I'm still doing fine. Just as I always was. Really, my life seems to be looking up. I'm more or less emotionally stable. I have a job that's well enough, I'm in college.

Mom died. The woman that gave me birth.
I'm still angry at her. For doing that. Birthing me. I never asked for this life. Obviously, it can't truly be undone. That's anger I'll likely always have, until I too, perish. But I'm fine with that. I don't care.
I'm supposed to feel something, aren't I? I don't though, not really. I mean, I see her name in my conversations and I don't think much of it, just sort of "Oh..." and then continue scrolling. I know not everyone sees it that way. I can see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices.
She knew how I felt about her. I was honest, as she raised me to be. I know she never truly accepted all the things I am. And that's fine. Because I am, who I am. I will not change, for anyone or anything.
Some people don't get that, they don't understand. They definitely don't understand how I can feel fine with not having said "I love you" to her in years. She raised me to be honest with her, and so I was. I did not say those words to her because they would be empty. I am grateful to her for what she did, but that does not equal feeling love for her. She did her best, yes, but that doesn't mean I have to love her for all she did. To many, I may seem disrespectful, but I am honest. I rarely lied to her, at least, not about serious things. Small things, sure, but nothing that was important, like matters of love. She was a very good woman, but still, I would not say I loved her. Because I did not, I do not. I am, indifferent towards her. Angry, yes, but largely, indifferent.

I know, most people, will not understand this, they may even turn to hating me for it. But I cannot change what is.
I am a bastard, in all connotations of the word. I understand this. I accept it. I do not regret anything regarding her. What happened, happened, it cannot be altered.
Maybe I am a shit son, I don't really care. Why would I? Both parents may as well be dead. I know one is, the other, may as well be.

I have found a new family, her boyfriend and his son. My friends, some of which, I love as family. But those related to me by blood? The majority I cannot stand, and the few I can, know who they are and that they are the ones I care for. However, if they do come to hate me, I do not blame them for it. I understand, as always.

Society dictates, that I should care. That I should spend days to months, in mourning for my dead mother. It is a societal expectation. It is an expectation that I feel something. But I do not. Not consciously. I do not have dreams about it, my sleep is as it usually is. My school work does not suffer either.
Singing along to "Adam's Song" by Blink-182 did make my voice crack, but it doesn't matter really. It was a moment, but it is not all-consuming or anything. Is it bad..., that I do not feel anything? I believe I have made my peace with it. I have spoken to my therapist about it, and she only says that if I feel the need to talk about it, we can, but as I do not really feel that need, we do not.

I chafe, beneath all these societal expectations. I am sick of them. It is yet another reason why, I tire of this life.
And yes, I have considered it. I can imagine it. I have what I need to do it. But I have been told, it would be selfish of me to do it. They cry "What about me?" and I reply, "You will be fine". I won't say it is not tempting, if only because I'm tired of being angry and desolate. So maybe, I will. At some point. I mean, I will, at some point, though I haven't decided when that will be yet. It lingers, there, it is a good probability, an appealing one too. But it would be misread, I know that. Because they cannot see the underlying reality. They see only what they want to.

I'm tired. I'm angry. But what else is new?

We thought, it would never happen to us. Something like that. But it did. It did, and it has left most everyone changed. Except me. I'm the same. Cynical, nihilistic, asshole. I'm not a good person, she was though.

My mother, was a good woman. Her death was unexpected. But now, we must move on. Live our lives. We cannot change it. Time, marches ever forward.