After my father died, you said
you wanted us to stay children.
We both knew that statement didn't apply
to me; I stopped being a child at 13.
I was more mature than my sister
so you didn't mind taking
your problems out on me.
If you were tired or upset
you would blame me for
anything and everything,
and I understood, because of
everything you'd lost.
But you were my mother.
I loved you and I needed you
and you stopped being a parent
the day he died.
I told myself it was harder on you;
you had lost your future, all your
dreams, hopes, plans; all I lost was
yesterday, for I would someday build
a future of my own.
But the truth is, mom, it isn't fair.
It's not fair that my sister can make
mistakes and I can't. It's not fair that
I have to cook; clean; do laundry,
while you complain about your life.
It isn't fair that I was bulimic
for years and you never noticed,
that you always cried out on my shoulders
and let me cry myself to sleep alone.
It is not fair to tell your daughter
that you want to die. I was only
fifteen and I had no father, and I
told myself it was okay but can
I honestly tell myself that now?
I stopped being a child at 13
and I forgave you for everything,
but now I am an adult and I am
lonely and exhausted and you
never seem to really see me,
and I am done
forgiving you;

I learned to forgive
myself
instead.