things that were much better left unsaid

i am not my mom's perfect ideal daughter,

and she's not a perfect ideal mother either.

the bond that we used to have is unbreakable and loving,

at least that what i'm trying to believe as a child.

well, that's the only thing a child could do with their immature brain;

years ago the little girl with a single braid can only hope that her mom would stop screaming at her every time a minor inconvenience happens,

and spoonfeed her favorite fried chicken with rice while she play with the dolls.

today, i sit in front of my mom while she sits on a chair behind me,

she braids my hair and it hurts but i let her keep on doing it,

i casually asked her to do my hair for me, as if the excruciating offensive words that she said because she has zero self control never happened,

or the arguments, the fights, the slaps and the screams was just nightmares.

and we continue to keep on doing it,

and doing it, again and again,

that those never happened

and when we fight again, we'll ignore it and continuously putting ourselves in this loop; because you refuse to change for the better and the fact is both of us are fucked in the head. 

because we can't be alright, mom,

we will never be alright and okay and normal, and i would swear and write the very obvious statement in the blood that you gave in my body

that i am not the daughter that you asked for.

since i am the reflection of you, you'll hate me as much as you hate yourself,

even when i am searching for your so-called love in every park,

every playground,

every cup of coffee,

and every homemade food on top of the dining table,

i am all you could have been, you are all i will ever be.

---

25th jan ‘23