Sometimes, i can't believe that i've lost you.

When i don't explore that emptiness, life seems normal.

When i question that emptiness, life crumbles.

Returning home every week is like returning to the negative side of me.

I'm torn apart.

i yearn for home. but i dread home.

Shredded.

Every week without fail, you welcome me home in your drunken stupor.

And i am embarrassed by you.

To the extent that i can't bear the sight of you.

I wonder

Would you be happier if you die?

I just want you to be happier.

But you are just making yourself miserable.

You're so capable of it that you've been doing it for your whole 56 years of life.

You always ask questions which cannot be answered.

What do you expect me to say? I've no idea.

All i can do is to keep quiet.

Who is the selfish one? Honestly?

You kept saying nobody understands your pain.

You kept saying that you're the most ill-fated woman in the world.

You kept saying that you want to die.

You kept saying that you will never be happy again.

You kept saying that we have our own lives and that you have none.

But only you

is capable of controlling all of the above.

Nobody can help you, mum. You have to help yourself. Step out of dad's shadow. Hold hands with him. Tightly. But own your shadow. For no one can live in other people's shadow.