I feel better knowing my mother doesn't love me. I think in fact, she treats me like an object. The very thing women have told me time and time again I do and men do. I am her son, something she desired and has told me (several times) on this fact. I guess she is done with me, a passive gift put on the shelf. I am an adult, I need to grow up if I haven't. Yet, I have never really felt the way my family has told me I should be (a man, positive, on my own, smarter, not single). I just feel the opposite of those things or confused; as if I have accomplished nothing. I am shit? I always lie and get picked on (less these days). Weaseling my way out of serious situations. Always getting into trouble and crying is my past-time. Look at me now, the big-smart-positive man people adore.
Right... now, I desire love from my family. More than I ever have. I am lonely. My family, where are they, who are they? One sister in a different state with our last conversation resulting in her hanging up on me. My younger sister in the city, but she keeps things so light, we forget we exist. My father, I love him and I can feel a connection, but he is so weird. He is a big conspiracy theorist and so unreal. At times, he is the greatest, but whenever I try to be serious, it all falls apart. Like coming off a drug. Now my mother. The one who does not love anyone but herself. Yet, does she really love herself? She never exercises. Her smoking and drinking is hidden and constant. She always asks what people think of her and avoids serious topics (always). She gets negative really fast and has no since of respect. I love her, because she is my mother, but I am saddened by the lack of connection and friendship we have. I used to hate women. Now I am very true to myself. I hate, hate. Nothing more. Women, men, they are just people, like me. Is that enough? Not enough, but I am always growing (always changing). My mother though... she is so, what the Hell is she anyways? The less I focus or think about her, the happier I am. Such a dark thing to say but she is a joke full of stress, confusion, and self-loathing. A true narcissist, why take the headache seriously? The only emotion she can squeeze out is one of isolation.
So, my mother doesn't love me. Another female showing me few sides, only herself, and mainly negativity. I constantly repeat this in my head "She does not love me." You cannot love what you hate. What you despise. What you do not understand. I am an object. A performer by day and a lonely heart at night. Sick, sick shit. With this thought I can face her and smile. If I interact with her in any other way, all I get is disappointment. As my sister's would say "why do you care what we think?" I guess I just do.
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