a piece about my mother. SHE SHE makes me hate every part of me. i am satisfied with my personality SHE labels it mental. I become mental. I try to find some other part of me to be happy about- lets change my dress sense and create beautiful art. SHE labels it mental an act of a psychotic SHe makes me hate myself. Whether on purpose or not. SHE is upset and angry because she doesn't understand me, because i'm not like her. "you have to CONFORM, FIT IN to get a job. a job is impoooortant!!!" in angry tones mostly. Mimicing in caracatures my attributes SHE labels me mental i experiment with my identity SHE labels me mental i won't communicate SHE twists my words and any thing i tell her about myself SHE uses for bait at a later date. SHE whinges and whiones at the smallest of things-toothpaste caps, mismatching colours. It all becomes a life or death vanity thing that MUST be fixed I used to whinge a bland ugly dork shy shy shy no art no words no colour SHE dressed me in her personality Everyone despised the negativity. But then someone came along some people came along and opened my eyes to beauty and what reality was Reality for her was getting a job and a house with pale carpets and chandeliers and Ikea furniture in a suburban house. Ugh. And i became less like her. How i loved being happy Everyday she's breaking me. SHE labels me mental, and i hate myself more and more everyday.
