Dear Mum,

My time will come soon. I know you don't like me, because love and like are entirely different. I feel so misunderstood by you, how you see me, how you like me, but I can't help but love you even after everything you've done to me. You get mad at me for even typing on my keyboard during free time.

It's always been about you; from the moment he would take drugs to when you first put your hands on my neck. Just because you went through so much with him doesn't make it my fault in the future, and I hate you for that, I hate you so much, more than you can ever imagine, but I can't help needing you.

You beat me until I was crying so hard, and you wondered why I would cut myself. You never helped when I was bullied, when I was so horrible. Only my friends could help me then; they were horrible, but I only had them. It's been 3 years, and it is getting even worse. I need a relief again, from the blade across my skin to my fingers in my mouth over the toilet, I tried to end it many times, times which you didn't notice.

You make fun of me when I was touched by my own uncle; nothing makes it right. He should've never done that. The way I sat, the way I dressed, the way I spoke, nothing will even undo what he did. Nothing will make it better.

I can't live without you, but you can live without me.