“I may be wrong. But I’m pretty sure my mom hates me. I know it’s a stretch and might not even be true but I have this gut wrenching feeling that she does. don’t get me wrong I know that she loves me, but I also know that she hates me, I just don’t know why. When we burst out in laughter she has a big grin on her face until she glances at mine, and hers slowly fades. she denies it all the time, but I know she hates my singing. There’s a certain look in her eyes when my voice bounces off the wall and enters her ears. I always catch her sneaking glances at me with a confused but yet worried look. I know it doesn’t sound like much but the silence that fills the space between every word spoken is the loudest her hatred has been.”
“ I hate my child..... and I’m pretty sure he knows. I try so hard to hide it but sometimes the anger eats me alive, spits me back up and has me for dinner. How is it possible for someone to have so much hate and love for someone at the same time. What mother hates their own kid? The sound of his laughter fills me with joy with this look and I see his grin my love for him slowly decreases. He has the same grin as his father when he forced himself inside of my body. While he grinned, I cried, while he thrusted, I pushed until I had no fight left in me. I also can’t stand when my baby boy sings his little heart out. His voice resembles his fathers while he sang happily as he buckled his pants back and brushed his hands together as if he just finished making something he was so proud of. I always find myself staring at him. But not In a “I love this human so much” type of way. But more in a daze and I think about how someone so lovely could be created out of so much hatred. I try and let silence be my advocate, but somehow the hatred seeps into the air and creates the loudest silence to ever be spoken. I learned that it’s best to be silent. if I had not filled the silence between me and his father in that elevator with a complement I would not be in this predicament. That complement to him was an invitation to my body. I gave him that invitation, and he soon brought our child as a plus one. I was the host of a party I didn’t want to attend.”