June 21st 2008.
I'm not a mean spirited person. I don't enjoy yelling at people or hurting them. It truly hurts me when I hurt others. But, with Mom, well, she is just so easy to hurt. It's just way too easy. Bombs drop out of my mouth, a mile a minute. I can't keep the insults inside. They are sharp fucking insults too. I mean, my words cut deep into her. Imagine your own daughter slicing away at your strength and confidence. It's wrong in so many ways. It's pure evil, to hurt my mother the way I do. But she hurts me so much. Growing up in the shadows, never knowing my mom. All because she never had the time or engery to get to know me.
But...then I go downstairs and watch her. She shuffles around the kitchen in a drunken haze, trying her hardest to salvage the dinner she slaved over all night in order to keep Robbie happy. She looks so determined with her blank stare. All she can focus on is the goddamn lobster.
What really hit me was the burnt french fries. They looked pathetic; sprawled out and blackened to inedibility by the oven. Food gone to waste. Granted, they burned because I locked Mom outside for too long. Anyway, I had the urge to run upstairs and grab my camera and take a picture of the french fries, abandoned in the kitchen sink.
I wish I didn't have to fight her. I wish she would just take a deep breath and envision her life if she stopped all her fussing. I mean...if she simply vaporized all the grudges she has clung on to for so many years...
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