You complain that I don't help you, but you still complain when I do.
You want me to spend time with you; but when I do, all you do is give me shit for anything you can think of.
You don't want me to leave, but all you do is complain about me.
I do everything to make you proud, but you told me that you want to kill yourself for raising me to be like this.
My father is an asshole to us both; but when I stand up for either of us, all you do is defend him.
Every time I tell you about something that excites me, you manage to complain about it.
You have problems; but all you do dismiss mine and give me shit for them.
All I want is to solve problems, but you're too proud to admit your faults.
You apologize sometimes, but your words are meaningless, hollow, insubstantial, futile, worthless, useless.
The word "mother" has become meaningless, hollow, in substantial, futile, worthless, useless.
Blood is not thicker than water, no matter how much you lie to yourself.
And that excuse spreads itself thin every time you speak it.
I try so hard. I've been trying for the past 20 years. And I only still do because I live with you.
And I've told you that. You've said you'll change, but you've said it too many times.
I leave in 3 months now; and I've told you that, if you keep this up, I'll never see you again.
You haven't changed, and I've stopped caring. I just want the fighting to stop until I set foot out of this place.
All I want is to burn this bridge; and for you to, in your deathbed, alone, regret what you've done to me.
I want to never see your picture again, or you mine; or, for that matter, see mine and don't recognize me.
I just sit, praying, hoping, fantasizing, waiting about my departure, waiting to feel peace for the first time in my life.
So know this, and stop lying to yourself. You don't fool anyone. You hate me, and I hate you.
I've done all there is to change that, but you've done nothing.
Die knowing that your only son hates you, and it's your fault.