Well, how do I feel now?
A mix of emotions washes over me.
My emotions are like a web—
messy, tangled, inescapable.
I’m upset, mostly at myself.
I wonder why I care so much,
but I already know the answer.
And that answer is what upsets me the most.
They say the truth will set you free,
but first, it will anger you.
I know the truth, yet I am not free.
My heart is tied, locked.
You have the key.
You always find a way to slip into my thoughts,
even my dreams.
I wish you would leave me alone.
I want to forget your existence,
yet I can’t.
You are stuck to me like a plague—
the irony.
But what about this truly upsets me?
What is it that I want from you?
Maybe your attention.
Maybe something more.
Your actions anger me.
I have a strong dislike for stupidity and ignorance,
and you have shown me both.
I cannot change you,
but I wish I could mold you like clay.
You make bad choices,
and your response to things
shows a lack of morality.
It frustrates me.
One of the thousand questions in my mind is:
why are you like this?
Is it your mother?
A mother is a gardener,
and a child is the seed.
How the gardener tends to the seed
determines whether it thrives or withers.
And you—
you are wilted, damaged.
It shouldn’t bother me,
but it does,
because I care for you.
I know your capability,
your capacity.
But your gardener has failed you.
And for that,
I am sorry.