The fact of the matter is I'm tired.  I'm absolutely and positively exhausted.  Each day I wake and lay in bed to question if getting up is really that important, if I really need to attend that politics class.  
You were tired too.  You laid in bed for hours, days, weeks, and never thought maybe you should go to work.  You weren't worried about the groceries that were dwindling in the fridge.  All you wondered was if Rapunzel and her golden hair could heal you of your pain.
She couldn't.
What makes me tired is that when you finally did rise up out of your bed, you walked out the door.  I never saw you again.  Funny, you woke up to leave me.  I guess I should be proud in some sick, bittersweet way.  Maybe I should applaud you for gathering all your strength to do what you actually wanted to do since I was a child.  Blame me for the emptiness in your heart.  I'm the one who showed up and disrupted your peace.  Send me to sleep at night for me to wake to no one in the morning.  Then I can lie in bed forever.
I'm also tired of hating you, of being so mad at you that my heart starts to boil inside me.  
The fact of the matter is you hurt me.  Sometimes I go to Rapunzel and ask for her golden hair but I can't bring myself to even look her in the eye.  Because now I am you.  The very essence of your cold and   sad being has entered into my veins and I feel like giving up.  Just like you.
Maybe one day I won't be tired anymore.  Then, I can get up and leave all the ones I love. Yes, maybe one day I'll have children to run away from and break them at the core.

After all, isn't it every girls dream to be like mommy?