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by Stephen Green about a month ago in Humanity / Teenage years / Family / Childhood
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A Confession

Dear Mom,

It's been 32 years since I entered this world and our relationship began. Poverty, pain, and panic attacks have littered the road, but we've made it! I often reflect on the time we have spent together and the rocky path we have walked to arrive here.

You never earned the suffering you inherited, and I'm here to tell you all the things I wish you could hear; the things that I wish you could accept and grow from.

You are not responsible for the assault on your body or the invasion of your soul. You were abused by bastards that needed no excuse other than that you existed, and yet you loved enough to bring another into the world without a second thought.

Despite my disabled body and broken spirit, you fed me, clothed me, and guided me toward health and success. In the darkness of night, you lit the path to safety. We shared endless tears as more bastards came and went, afflicting our lives with their rage and mercilessness. The toxicity of the "the good ole country boy" littering the path with broken glass and filling our hearts with fear. Yet you pushed through and carried me out to safety. When all seemed dark and depression clouded my mind, you were the moon shining in the bleakest of moments, giving all you had to make sure I could see the path before me.

When I failed in my endeavors you were there to encourage me. When I strayed from the path, you guided me toward the truth. When I betrayed you, you forgave me. When I struggled with my faith and my identity you ran to my defense against nay-sayers and persecutors; giving me the space I needed to be myself and to discover the mysteries of the universe. You were the rock that never shifted; the shelter that never faltered.

These are the sweet and kind things I wish I could tell you; sometimes I even trick myself into believing these things are true. But no. These are the things I dare not utter because I'm afraid of causing you pain. I am afraid that I might push you over the edge that you have often threatened to jump off. How can I tell you the truth when it might be the reason you commit to ending your life?

These are the illusions I have embraced since I was a kid to cope with you never leaving my dad and making us endure his unhinged rage that assaulted both my flesh and spirit. These are the things I clung to when I felt lost in loneliness and anxiety. I believed you were the moon that gave me glimpses of light and brought comfort amidst the shadows. Now we stand in the same darkness under the same moon, and I fully see that the light isn't you.

I meant it when I said you didn’t deserve the abuse that you received, so hear me when I say that I didn’t deserve the abuse that you gave. I don’t want to lose you, but I cannot live any more of my life thinking you're the light guiding my path when you’ve been dragging me down and holding me back. I wish I could take your hand and be the guide that I needed you to be, but you refuse to stop thinking you’re the moon to me. If you need to keep thinking you are that light I’ll let you stay in that space because I can’t bear to break the illusion if it means breaking your heart.

This is my confession. I love you too much to tell you a lie but I fear too much to tell you the truth. I love you too much to keep building a broken relationship and fear too much to cut you off. I endure your passive aggression and the words you use to try to ensnare me, but I refuse to keep blaming myself for the darkness you sit in.

I can never be the man you had designed for me to be, and that is the moonlight that comforts me.

With Love and Regret,

Your Son

HumanityTeenage yearsFamilyChildhood

About the author

Stephen Green

I'm a writer with a master's in psychology.

People pay me to make them roll dice and write plots that stress them out.

#LGBTQ #Fantasy #Poetry #Spirituality

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