I've seen you cry one too many times this year.

and it's too late for an apology- but I will say this:

You waited anxiously for nine months for my adoption papers and immigration requirements to make or break the family you wanted to raise. Thank you.

When I came home crying in the ninth grade, begging to change schools because the girls in my class wouldn't stop calling me "*****", you tore up your roots and left all your friends so that you could give me an opportunity to be happy. Thank you.

After you caught me lighting fires in the kitchen during the last stretch of middle school, you dug to the depths of your wallet and entered me in therapy sessions. Thank you.

Midnight of the week I was supposed to go to London, you came down to the bus stop that I was waiting at with all the emergency vehicles. You checked me into a psychiatric hospital as soon as I was released from police custody in the hopes that a clinical environment would help me heal faster. Thank you.

When you found out that I had put myself into a dangerous situation, you locked down my personal things and put passwords and restrictions around me so I would be safe from the predators of this society. Thank you.

All those times I chose not to come home, all those times I locked myself in the bedroom and wouldn't speak- It was guilt. How could I face the one person who has essentially given up everything for me, just to tell her I'd made another mess that she'd have to clean up?

How could I come home to the thought that I'd failed yet again?

How could I say to my mother, who has sacrificed unquestioningly each and every day so that I could have the comfortable life I've lived, that I wasn't able to be the bigger person?

That I lost another friend, that I'd broken a law, that despite the happy home environment she'd done everything she can to create– I still found myself wanting to die at night. That I still couldn't see past the disappointments of my errors.

You've done everything for me without complaint, and on this day I couldn't be ****** enough to even say "good morning."

It's too late for an apology, but I will say this:

I cannot see myself being big enough to support the two of us in the way that you have. I cannot imagine giving up the freedoms and the niceties that you have for me. I cannot grasp the concept of selflessness over selfishness.

Mom, I love you.

Please forgive me for being so difficult.