One day she said to me
Mommy, I want to be like you.
But what she doesn't know, because she's too young to understand is that I don't even want to be me. I don't even know who I am.

I hide in my room to escape the judgements
I can hear their thoughts through their eyes. They try to solve my problems without even knowing them. They don't know how alone I feel and how torn I am between wanting to be a mother of two or a sad woman. I cannot be both. I push everyone away and immediately want them back. I'm always just hoping they will stay no matter how hard I push.

I wish I could erase all of those terrible memories from my children's heads. They don't talk about it. They just move on and I stay in regret. This puddle of regret that I love to bathe in.