🦋💚🌻My Dreams 🌻💚🦋

Mom...

     I was five when you stopped fighting me on saying mommy, instead replacing it with Mom.

    I was ten when you last called me your precious princess, your darling daughter.

    I was twelve when you started to tell me not to flirt with so many boys, still a child enough to be confused by what you told me.

     I was fourteen the last time you offered to do my makeup, when I remember as soon as I got into it you asked me everyday when I was little.

     I was sixteen when your view of my started to twist. As soon as you found about that boy I had been with, you never asked me about it, talked me through anything, no, you told me "Not to put that image out about myself."

      I was seventeen when the rose-colored glasses I wore for you shattered, showing me the dark black and grey world you'd forced me into under the idea it was a fantasy land.

       I was eighteen when I left it all, and you came after me, angered I'd finally started to see everything as it was.

         Most people could say different things about themselves at each age.

         "At 12? Me and my mom were baking cookies"

          "My mom always wanted to do her makeup with me."

          "Mom talked me through my bad experiences, she was always there."

             Those are the words I should say, but to say such things would be a lie.

             And I hate that for us mom