May 15, 2003
End Game
I�ve spent these last couple of years thinking that my mother and I are close. Good friends even. How could we not be when we share so much?
I thought that we had finally gotten past most of our issues. That she had found out about and accepted all those things about me that she used to say made her feel like a failure as a mother. All those things that used to make her shake her head and say, �Thank god your father didn�t live to see you like this.�
I thought so many things. Things I would have know were lies if I had ever taken the time to really think about them.
Because if I�m so comfortable around my mother, if she really knows me and accepts me for who I am then why have I spent so much time and energy trying to hide things from her?
I think somewhere deep down I�ve always know that it�s because we�re really not that close at all. We love eachother. Too much maybe. But we�re not close. Because ever since my dad died I�ve felt kind of responsible for her. And even though it doesn�t seem like it I�ve always tried to keep her from getting hurt. Even if it meant giving up on things I really wanted..
But yesterday I failed her because she walked into the kitchen when I was in there and I didn�t even bother thinking about the fact that I was wearing a tank top. Didn�t stop to realize what my upper arms look like. And she saw and goddess I would go anything to take that moment back. To wipe the look she had on her face from my memory and hers.
She asked about it and I froze. I told her to stop it and walked away.. and I went to sleep and haven�t seen her since. It�s pathetic but I�m afraid to face her.. and I have no idea what to do.
11:34 a.m.