if it makes you happy

it never ceases to amaze me, the extent of venom my mother and i somehow manage to conjure up against each other, when it comes to the war of the words. we fire our ammunition of choice, the only intention being: maximum damage. like kamikaze pilots, we never look back. once said, these words can never be retrieved, no amount of sorry's can undo the psychological harm we've caused each other over the years.

don't deny it. you're every bit the perpetrator as you are the victim.

i'm no angel, of that i'm sure. hell, i'd even admit to using deodarant JUST TO SPITE YOU. haven't figured out why yet? because. my. life. is. all. about. making. yours. miserable.

NOT.

mum, i know you'd NEVER submit yourself to acknowledging this, but part of you detests me so much because you know you're me and i'm you. my stubborn-bang-my-head-against-the-wall attitude. my incapable-of-being-emotional front i play out so well. my allergic-to-admitting-i'm-wrong stance (though i give you credit for always having the trump card in this)

where do you think i got it all from? the air in the delivery room?

i can't seem to cry. the overwhelming urge to throw myself to the ground and scream along to this song is an alternative too far out of my reach, from past experiences garnered i know it'll make me feel better, but I JUST CAN'T.

my only flaw was in severely underestimating my heart, it seems. not the weak fragile i-believe-in-love-at-first-sight organ i pegged it to be, the more i know it'll lessen the pain, the more reluctant it is in allowing me the luxury.

i feel somewhat immune to person i once loved the most, then hated the most, and now am just a stranger to. i am just as much a stranger to you as you are, to me.

i hate the way you put yourself up upon that pedestal. i hate the way you insist upon everyone else your beliefs, because you think you're always right. your delusional paranoia is driving me to to my grave. if i prefer to die young by cause of deodarant usage/envelope-licking poisoning, please allow me the basic human right to do so.

but most of all.

i hate you because i hate the way I AM YOU.

i am a spawn of all your idiosyncrasies, and i shudder to think day by day i'm slowly but inevitably being infected by you. you and your organic potatos, sodium laureth sulphate-isms, endless emails from 'your friends' EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. about 'new' chemicals that will make me shrivel up into a prune at the ripe old age of eighteen and six months.

we must hold an olympic record (at least) for the 'most interesting fight topic(s)' 4 X 4 relay. we fought all the way to the clinic, called for temporary cease-fire during the doctor's consultation, then fought all the way back home. to think that our lives revolve around nothing more than arguing about licking envelopes and using deodarant, how an independent person should be able to provide A4-sized envelopes and stamps for oneself, when oneself knows that her mother has a stack at home and would be STUPID to go out and buy 24inapacket for oneself and then proceed to use one measly piece.

it's always the little things.
that lead to big things.
that grow into BIGGER things.
one day, there'll be nothing.

mum, i'm tired.
i quit.
fighting with you serves no purpose.
eventually, you win
the way you always do.
with your threats held high
withholding my education from me
using the same old
"you want to leave?
you want to be independent?
no one's stopping you
you can leave"
you know
it'll only make me
stay.

"if it makes you happy, it can't be that bad..."

sheryl crow, oh sheryl crow
my mother, you do not know.