All to often, my mind drifts to my mixed feelings for my mother.
The deep love that burned in my heart for the woman who had given me life.
The suicidal remorse I felt for bringing such guilt and reproach on her good name.
The blinding anger I felt for her never questioning her beliefs, but always questioning her son.
And so I'm left with a vacuous emotional chamber for a large element that is missing from my soul.
And when you've lost your most valuable possesion, everything else is gravy on an empty plate - pointless.
And so I hurt too, and I love my mom, but does she love me? The unanswered question haunts my mind.
We recieve, we give, and sometimes, we just plain screw up.
Mom, I love you.
no matter what.