Mom, I'm sitting in my car in the parking lot outside the laundromat listening to Emma Ruth Rundle and Thou, The  Valley on repeat and crying in public. I know why you hurt me, and I know you couldn't comfort me and protect me because you were never comforted and protected. I know why you chose to die. I know how badly they hurt you. And, I know you never felt loved.

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't watch you self-destruct. I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough to take on your pain and recognize that your abuse was coming from a place of extreme hurt. My heart hurts so much for you. I so badly want to turn the violence and pain of your life into something meaningful...but I'm failing. 

I'm also so angry at you. I fucking needed a mom. I fucking need a mom right now. I need you to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I need you to tell me that everything I've worked so hard and long for hasn't been completely meaningless. I need you to tell me that you are proud of the strong, beautiful, and intelligent person you think that I've become. I've never had anything like that from you. I so very much want that.

I don't miss your abuse, anger, and suffering, Mom. But, I  grieving for the mom I never had.