Chapter Text
An Open Letter to My Fellow Tortured Children
Mother's Day may not always be a happy occasion for us; with complications with our own mothers so abhorent and felt as if we should forgive simply for who she was to us. She who gave birth or raised us; for us to be thankful for her pressence. And while fighting with parents can be seen as normal; sometimes it feels as if it goes farther.
For myself; my relation with my mother is complicated. I love her in one breath, and in the exhale I am being chastised for being moody and volitale. For simple disagreements on opinions spiral and take root and form rifts so large that it becomes apparent to the other members of the household. Until everything she's done for you is gloated over your head and you are expected to jump; to beg for forgivness that should be yours to recieve. My complications arrive in the form of chastising for enjoying hobbies she doesn't approve of (writing being one of them. To the point she has demanded I stop creating simply because it has no true capitalistic benefits. Because it is childish and I need to grow up. Because what I write is wrong and disgusting and deranged and I need some form of help for imagining two characters as gay and forcing my belief system on them).
For having friends that she and my dad deems as "non-contributing members of society", who blames permissive parenting for freaks in the streets and openly states that they must not have been hit enough as a child because that form of behavior can only be cured by beating it out of a child who wishes to be a different gender than they were born as. (How she discovered that about me and states loudly how that, because I was born with a vagina, I am a girl when I am not. How she discovered the name I went by and proceeded to loose her damn mind to the point where both she and my father mock it daily. How it is not only me in my family, but my cousin as well, who they chastise. Who they say my aunt should have beaten and is this way due to said permissive parenting).
For enjoying time to unwind and play a video game or watch an old cartoon I like, because I am almost 30 and grown adults don't still act like children. That I'm forced to grow up and act my age because I must always be working or studying and am not allowed to enjoy the little things in life.
For still living at home and having my finances under scrutiny and saying how I can never move out because I would be useless in providing for myself. But she doesn't even allow me to drive on the highway or have a moment of peace to myself.
For the way my body is and being told to not eat because I am too fat; that everything wrong with my body is only due to the fact that I'm overweight. Despite the fact she's worse than me. I can't hurt or complain of pain because it ends with shaming in ways that make me want to cut off every little excess piece of me.
Some days; I forget all of this. How I generally enjoy her company and love her and I forget it all in the little things she does for me.
Some days; I really want to commit Matricide.
-Jim