Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Bitter and twisted

I’m not cut out to be a mother. Not anymore anyway.
I don’t think I even love them properly anymore, more like an aunt and certainly not like a mother. I can’t take the fighting, and I am unable to discipline them effectively. They don’t care what I say, and frankly I don’t care either. I just want to run away and hide.

I feed them, clothe them and go through the motions when I am home. and I fantasize about disappearing, where I would go, how I would get there – how I would fund it.
I have to take them to school now. One just slammed his finger in the car door – It is wrong that this exasperates me rather than worries or upsets me. Fuck everything.

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