I told my mother I never asked her to give birth to me when she tried to hold it over me, as if it were a service. She refused to listen. That’s the thing about her. She thinks that all she does is an achievement. I am not a feather in your cap. I am a mistake that could’ve been avoided with a simple abortion. I want to tear myself apart, mom. Please stop talking about me like an award. I am an imperfect being that you pretend isn’t falling apart. 

Just let me do so without feeling guilty for disappointing you with my imperfections.