if you read this, it means you have finally pushed me off the edge.
i will not sit here and take the verbal abuse you haul at me each time you blow up.
a mother would not sit there and yell at her daughter about how fat she is, she would not buy her a weighing scale and tell her it serves to remind her of how much she needs to lose.
she will not give her toxic opinion about how the clothes she wears are made for girls much, much slimmer than she is.
a mother would not look at her daughter in the eye and watch her words cut holes in her kin's chest, and not falter at the tears she sheds.
a mother would not raise her child alongside whitening creams, and tell her she can only be pretty if she uses them.
a mother would not laugh along to snide remarks about how her daughter is bigger than her, and probably wears a larger size.
you, mother, have been the stem to every insecurity and self-esteem issue i have developed, faced and struggled with.
you are the reason i cry myself to sleep at night, feeling uglier than i actually am.
you are the reason i always look when i see a mirror, checking my appearance for anything out of place.
you, mother, are the reason why at the tender age of 13, i spent my nights with my fingers down my throat, forcing out the contents of my stomach, just so i could appease your definition of beauty.
it is why i change my order choices at restaurants whenever you side-eye me for ordering something indulgent, and why my heart sinks everytime you chastise me for having a candy wrapper in my room.
it is why i was underweight in primary and secondary school, and why i was so physically and mentally weak.
it was a big reason why i fell into depression and why i don't think i will ever love myself truly.
at night i wonder why you have chosen to be so toxic to me, instead of encouraging me to love myself and teaching me that beauty is not skin-deep. i wonder why i had to go through so many years of pain and self-loathing.
i think about all the sleepless nights i've had, just obsessing over my worth, and in turn leading me to harm myself, which has now turned into a tragic stretch of skin lined with white scars from 7 years of coping.
i think you know about that though, for you have seen them and you are aware of the blades i keep within reach of my bed.
your words have shaped me to be the broken shadow of a person i am, spineless and without a sense of worth, ready to be stepped on by anyone i encounter.
mother, i will never be enough. i will never be pretty enough, thin enough, or even smart enough.
mother, i am sorry for not being the daughter you have always wanted.
and i am sorry that you are not the mother i would have wished for.