Dear mama

I'm so disappointed with you. I'm so unlucky to have been stuck with you. You're shit, but you're too delusional to know it.
You don't give a fuck about me: you never have. I'm just a mistake you made. You even literally called me a "mistake" when I was a kid when explaining how I came into this wretched existence. I've just been an obligation, a drag, a killjoy, because you were young, you were 19 when you got pregnant with me. Then dad left when I was 2, so there went your help, you had to raise me on your own, more reasons to resent my existence.
So, because of your actions, you had to work 2 jobs. And when you were done, you frequently went out, because you were a young slut. So this led to me spending a lot of time home alone: not so good for social development.
You got married for the second time to Ken. he moved in. then his son, Mike, moved it, & you really weren't happy about that. Even though he was only 13 (I was too), you treated him very unfairly. You were always mean to him: & Ken too. You physically attacked Ken several times. He had a lot of patience until 1 time he wrestled you to the ground after you attacked him. You screamed at me to call the police. I didn't, but you did. they came to the house & it was humiliating. One time, at dinner, you threw your iced tea at Ken, then you immediately refilled your glass & doused Mike, even though he wasn't a part of the argument. The whole time Mike was there, you behaved like a child having a tantrum. You even made him kneel next to the toilet so you could slam his head against it for leaving the seat up. Eventually, of course, they both left. You're a 2-time loser (divorcee). No wonder I've never "tied the knot."
You smacked my head because you thought I hadn't finished my homework, but I had, & I showed it to you. You cried, apologized, & hugged me. I was thinking, get the fuck off me.
Then I was molested by your Uncle Harry when I was a teen. You knew he liked to go to gay bars, but you made it easy for him. You let him sleep in the same bedroom as me. I woke to him kissing me on the mouth, fondling my crotch, & murmuring about "young flesh." when he saw I woke, he was terrified. he gestured toward the bedroom where you & grandma were sleeping and said, "shh!" at least he stopped molesting me. I didn't say anything about it until after he died. Your reaction was very disappointing. Seems like maybe you didn't believe me. Years later, I'm in your house, & I see a picture of Uncle Harry with his sisters. I confronted you about not only having a picture of a child molester on your bookcase, but the man who had molested YOUR OWN SON, & you waddled your fat ass over to it & put it into a drawer: your body language expressing that I was the 1, not YOU, who was out of line. You're so childish & delusional. despite all evidence, you think you're perfect: typical human.
Years later, my ex was visiting me at your house, & you blamed Mike for your failed 2nd marriage. I really had to bite my tongue because I was there. YOU were responsible for the failure of that marriage: not him. He was a 13-year-old boy who was traumatized by your shit, you delusional liar.
When I was walking to your house (during daytime), 1 of your neighbors interrogated me while his fat ass was seated in his vehicle. he said, "we've had some burglaries. what are you doing here?" he obviously seems to think he has more rights than the police do when it comes to confronting people. You saw this, you attention whore, so you poked your fat ass out the front door. after you realized what the situation was, your neighbor interrogating your son because he was walking down the street, that didn't stop you from having a pleasant conversation with him, you piece of fucking shit.

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day here in the states, where so few have so much, and so many have so little.  Here is my Mother's Day message to my mother: FUCK YOU!  I'm also sending that out to all the other shitty mothers: fuck you too.  I hate my mother.  It makes sense to hate your parents.  They brought you into a world of violence, misery, pain, and shit.
Mother's Day and Father's Day are very backwards "holidays."  Instead of honoring biological (I have absolutely nothing against good adoptive parents.) mothers and fathers on these days, perhaps we should beat the shit out of them instead.  That would make more sense.
I was gonna write this post anyway, but, before I left work, I had to deal with 2 assholes, which only solidified my position that my mother is a cunt that deserves to be hated.
Also today, as I walked by some Canadian geese, one of them hissed at me.  It was because she was worried about her babies.  She was warning me to stay away from them.  I smiled at her and told her she had nothing to worry about.  She's a much better mother than mine ever was.   
I'll tell a little story about my mother.  Only a few years ago, I had moved in with my mother because I needed help.  I had tried to commit suicide, so I thought my policy of being alone might not be working.  Anyway, I was walking down the street I had grown up on.  Just before I reached my mother's house, some guy in a car stopped me.  "Excuse me," he said.  "But we've been having some burglaries on this street lately.  What are you doing here?"  I don't remember exactly what he said, but ti was definitely something like that.  It must have seemed so strange to see someone walking when most fat asses wouldn't dream of doing that: just drive everywhere.  So this asshole obviously thinks he has more rights that the police do.  
I pointed at the house I grew up in, and said, "That's my mother's house.  I grew up here."  Then he backed off.  I know I was pissed off, as I had every right to be, so I said something that made him give me a dirty look and say, "Okay, okay, " as though I was the asshole: not him.  That's when my mother made the scene.  She's an attention whore.  She saw me talking to someone, and she had to get involved.  She desperately needs attention.  The situation was explained to her, but instead of being angry at the man for accusing her son of being a criminal, she had a friendly chat with him, because attention is more important to her than her son is.
You might be thinking, that's not so bad.  Well, I know my mother, and I know she's stupid, lazy, uncaring, and selfish.
I'll tell another story about her.  As a teen, I was molested by a male family member because she failed to protect me.  She knew he was gay, but she allowed him to sleep in the same room as me.  Now, I know that being gay doesn't make you a child molester, but this one was.  I told no one about it until after he died.  Then I told my mother.  Every time I mentioned it to her, I've been disappointed with her reactions.  I don't know if she doesn't believe me or what the problem is.  When I went to stay with her, after my suicide attempt, I saw a certain picture displayed proudly on her bookcase: a framed photo of my molester.  It wasn't just him; his sisters were in it too, but what sort of a mother would display a picture of her son's molester in her home?  I confronted her about it, and she acted like she couldn't believe how jerky I was acting as she waddled her fat ass over to the photo and put it in a drawer.  What a piece of shit.