Mother's Day Poem by; Christine Vega Today is a day that I hate. Today is a day of sorrow and regret Who knew that this would be your fate? And who knew pain is all that I would get? Your father wanted you, and I wanted you more. Been a long time since you've been gone, and I wish you were here. I'm a mommy that makes angels. That's what everybody always tells me. Who would you have been? A mama's boy or a tough guy like your dad? Every single mother's day I remember you. Now you'd be in your terrible twos. Driving mommy and daddy crazy! But it would be okay, I'd love you just like I do now.
To my absent mother. To the person who acts like nothing is ever wrong or its everyone else’s fault and is delusions and thinks her children all love her. Being young I thought it was fun to go to your house and getting away from my dad’s girlfriend and being able to go get junk food from Fareway’s across the street and you giving us what we wanted and letting us do what we wanted. But now that I’m older I realized that you only did it to get us out of the house so you could put the drugs first and so we wouldn’t bother you. What got me the most is how we had to leave notes to tell you where we were because we left while you were passed out and going through the drug withdraws. You never really cared about us. You always pawned our stuff for the drugs and got mad when we asked about saying we never played with them and promised us you would get them back, but we never saw any of it again. But I’m glad you left my life, I didn’t have a negative impact in my life while I was turning into an adult. I found who I was without you and I am truly glad. So, thanks for putting the drugs first so I didn’t have you in my life to ruin what good I had.
Anujsomany posted a quote
September 4, 2016 10:23pm UTC
"A woman who remains connected with her mother via a communication link to convey on a daily or a weekly basis the things about her in-laws members as what they eat, drink and think; normally likes the man of the house to act like a weak mouse before her & so naturally always keeps her married life on the brink of the failure." ~Anuj Somany
Check out my brand new story on Wattpad called: There's Something Wrong With Dad My father has a tattoo that runs from his shoulder to his elbow on his right side; I never thought anything about it. He works, leaves for weeks at a time but comes back with pockets filled with money and bags filled with gold that he auctions off for thousands. I don't know what he does, but I never thought anything about it because he was able to sustain a suitable lifestyle for us. He had moments of anger yes, but he never abused us; he was a loving father. Even after the death of my mother, his caring character helped us move forward, and his idea of moving to a new hometown was for the best of our sanity. However, I could not help but notice the cold poisonous stare he would often give to my sister, and his brief moments of violence that he had trouble controlling. When I watched him beat a robber to an unidentifiable creature, grabbing his gun and continuously shooting him until there was nothing more than brain residue splattered all over the floor, those words in red flashed across my mind; There's something wrong with dad. I love him so much, but I can't help to think that he had something to do with the death of my mother. And I'm scared he's going to do it again. But to one of us. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/73365844-there%27s-something-wrong-with-dad
you look just like your mother i guess i do carry her tenderness well you both have the same eyes cause we are both exhausted and the hands we share the same wilting fingers but that rage your mother doesn't wear that anger you're right this rage is the one thing i get from my father
“ But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin. —Mitch Albom ”
I walk through the halls of most peoples Hell, seing my friends waiting by the library. I wave the wait. I over hear numeros conversations about how this person Is cute or this person Is Beautiful. I walk Hannah, Avery and Mace to there Bus. I hear the same conversations.I start the walk home to my personal hell called Home.Its to hard to escape the conversations of vanity.I think about the conversations I hear,trying to think back to the last time someone called me beautiful, or even remotly pretty. I can't... Because no ones ever thought of me as beautiful, not atleast someone who cares enough to tell me. If My own mother can't look me in the eye and call me beautiful, then who can??
Secrecy posted a quote
December 12, 2014 12:25pm UTC
M y mom and I aren't best friends, we don't tell each other everything, we don't have the ultra close relationship some people have and she doesn't tell me she loves me every day. But she is my mother, my role model and I love her very much. She's strong, she's independent, she's self sacrificing, she's intelligent and beautiful and she has an unconditional ability to love her family. And honestly she doesn't have to tell me she loves me everyday for me to know because actions speak louder than words and it doesn't take a genius to figure out how amazing my mom really is. - an appreciation quote
+Are you an angel? -What? +My mum told me that those who have marked wrists are angels. -I'm not an angel. +Of course you are. Mum said that only angels harm themselves because they don't like life on earth. This world is destroying them so they try to return to heaven again. They are too sensitive to the pain of others and their own. -You know... you mom is very wise. +Thank you, she is also an angel but she has already returned home.
In kindergarten, he wasn't even there to see me off. She was there everyday. In third grade, I believed all his lies, he was my favorite parent. She was too bossy. In sixth grade, he understood everything, he was my best friend. She didn't understand anything. In seventh grade, I figured it out, he's a fake. She knew what was yet to come. In ninth grade, his whole world flipped over. She stood behind me. In the next summer, he had no clue I tried to end my life. She strived to keep me alive. In tenth grade, I recieved my diagnosis. He said it doesn't exist. She tried to understand the differences in people. And here I am in eleventh grade, mad at myself for believing his lies for all too long. Mad because I wasn't worth the truth, mad because I made a fake of him, mad because he caused my mental disorders and he doesn't care. Mad because I treated her so bad for so long, mad because it took me so long to figure out, mad because bad things happen to good people, mad because she always had my back, mad because she has always been my biggest supporter. I'm so sorry Mom, I love you more than anything. Don't leave me.
She saw the blood from her head drip onto her hand and began to let out soft cries. She wanted to scream but she knew she must tolerate the pain enough not to scream, otherwise she would risk being struck again. Six year old Noelle had no idea what she did wrong, but she was really sorry. She struggled to her feet and crept up the stairs, quietly counting every step as if they were the sheep she counted at night. One step, two, three, four––BANG! She wasn’t quiet enough. “Stop crying, f*cking brat!” Norman walked away. He was the worst. Noelle struggled to stand up again, she fought to swallow her tears. Not just because of the pain, but because Norman knocked the tooth out of her mouth and she couldn’t find it. She really really, really wanted to see the tooth fairy. Noelle arrived in her room and reached under her bed for her doctors kit that she got for christmas. A bunch of toy supplies in a paper Costco bag labeled “Dr. Noelle." She opened it briskly and reached for the dentists mirror. As she stared at her tiny reflection she could see the blood run over the bruises on her face, occasionally intertwining with her tears. She lifted up her shirt and counted seven. Seven spots of blue and black torture. Mother would call it an accident. I wondered what kind of accident would hurt me with 7 spots. Mother was really good at making up stories. credit ≥≥ high_sierra
appleloop* posted a quote
September 15, 2014 9:47pm UTC
"But maybe snow is just angels flicking ashes from their cigarettes down to earth, and the days we spend home from school playing in powdered crystals will leave us coughing up smoke when we turn 16. and the light pink dress your mother used to make you wear will turn red where it hits your hips and kisses the tips of your wrists, and your mother will ask you why there’s blood on all your clothing and you’ll pretend like you haven’t been doing drugs in the bathroom at school and crying so much. and one of these days I’ll scream at you to kiss me, and you’ll do it and we’ll both burn into the ground and watch our bones melt into nothing because we are nothing,br> even though we’ve got ourselves convinced that we’re the world. but at least your lips are against mine. and you don’t always feel it at first, but when you feel it oh god you feel it. and liquor seems like a good idea until it’s not. and you’ll get better at feeling sorry for yourself and bandaging cuts. and you’ll get better at finding the stars under your skin, and learning to breathe again. and you’ll lose your f*cking mind but you’ll find it. again, and again, and again. and I’m terrified of growing up, and leaving behind chapped lips and peach tasting kisses and fireworks and headaches and eyes filled with oceans pouring down your face and flooding your mouth, but I would go anywhere with you."
appleloop* posted a quote
September 12, 2014 8:13am UTC
“ " I was sixteen, laying on my bedroom floor, choking on your goodbye and cigarette smoke with the 98 degree weather burning tears into my cheeks, screaming for my mother because I figured this was it, I was going to die without you because if I couldn’t wake up and see you sleepily mumbling my name into my hair I didn’t want to wake up at all. I was seventeen, shaky breath, shaky knees, tired lungs and wet hair but I wasn’t drowning like last summer ” — I thought I couldn’t live without you but you were nothing more than a good morning text and someone to pass out next to ”
appleloop* posted a quote
September 11, 2014 6:04pm UTC
"1. When I walk into CVS, I know exactly where to find the band-aids. Four years of tearing yourself open and you get used to dragging yourself into your nearest drugstore with blood dripping down your sleeve while the employees pretend not to notice and smile at the wall behind you when they ring you up. 2. Swollen lips and sweaty “I love you’s” can make you feel again but god I don’t want to feel anything if it means having to sit there with my throat on fire while my ribs crack and splinter every part of my f*cking body when he stops calling back. 3. I told my mother I wanted to fall in love and she told me she would start planning my funeral. 4. Words get trapped inside my chest and their edges cut into my heart. I wish I could just tell you how much I f*cking miss you. I can’t stop bleeding. 5. My father always told me not to love someone with all of me because they’ll slam the door one night and forget to come home and they will take every fiber of my galactic being and leave me with nothing but the darkness in-between the stars. 6. There are plenty of ways to kill yourself, stick a gun to the back of your throat, fall asleep in the garage with the car on, jump into a river and let the rock in your chest where your heart used to be drag you to the bottom, smoke too many cigarettes, bleed yourself dry. I think the most effective way is kissing someone who’s name you will never be able to say without shaking. 7. You don’t drown in the ocean. You just become part of it. Your hair dissolves into waves, your lips turn to salt, your eyes melt into the sea. They say that drowning is peaceful but when I fell into you water rushed into my ribcage it was just a lot of choking and burning and thrashing and darkness. 8. When I told you I wanted you to f*ck me I didn’t mean f*ck me over. 9. Maybe you should come over. Maybe I should change the locks. I think I love you again. 10. I quit smoking because you could stop my hands from shaking just as well as a pack of cheap cigarettes but you rot my insides even worse." -My parents keep asking why I haven’t gotten out of bed in two weeks
So I'm confused. My moms boyfriend kicked me out.. But my mom sid he didn't kick me out. But in all reality he told me to "GET OUT..." So doesn't that mean I basically got kicked out? And on top of that, my mother wont let me have my child support, even though I'm not living there and she wont take me off food stamps... It's been almost over 3 months since I've been there.. That's almost over $1,000 she is getting for me and I'm not even there... Must be nice to have money for food and all that crap, while I'm sitting here only eating lunch at school because it's free. -.- I'm going to get sick again. :/