I’ve had enough! My mother is a naïve woman whom men take advantage of and then abandon.
I’m writing this because there’s no one else to confide in…
I’m 19 years old, born and raised in Birmingham.
I have no idea who my father is.
My mother has never spoken of him, and whenever I asked, she would coldly respond:
– He doesn’t exist. Forget about him.
I grew up without a father, without family, lacking comfort and warmth.
I’ve become accustomed to being alone.
But most of all, I’m used to being second place in my mother’s life.
She forgets about me for the sake of men. Each time a new man enters her life, I turn into a ghost.
She spends hours in front of the mirror, selecting outfits, draining her last pounds on perfume and makeup.
I sit in my room, knowing that today, I’m not needed.
Then, after a few weeks or months, the breakdowns begin.
She cries, complains, says she’s been betrayed again, used again, abandoned once more.
And I sit beside her, listening, nodding, trying to comfort her.
But I know it will all repeat in a couple of weeks.
She understands nothing.
She doesn’t see how her actions are killing my belief in relationships, in family, in love.
I learned one thing from an early age – a man in her life will always take precedence over me.
I’ve become a stranger in my own home.
Whenever she has a new “suitor”, the phone rings incessantly.
I just know – there’s no place for me anymore.
I stopped believing her, stopped feeling anything for her, other than annoyance.
I’ve grown cold.
I can’t bear to listen to her whining, can’t comfort her after each new failure.
She’s a grown woman, yet acts like a spoiled child.
And I…
I feel like an old man.
Tired of her tears, her empty hopes, her endless mistakes.
And you know the scariest part?
I don’t want relationships.
I can hardly imagine trusting anyone.
I grew up in a home where love meant lies, betrayal, and pain.
I can’t stand to witness it.
Sometimes she comes home drunk.
Sometimes she brings home “the next one”.
I lie in another room, hearing them laugh.
And inside, I feel a tightening loathing.
I feel sick.
I don’t want to hear it.
I don’t want to live like this.
But I have no choice.
My mother doesn’t think it affects me.
Her only concern is herself.
The internet is my only escape.
Do you know what saves me?
Only the internet.
Here, I can express what I would never dare to say out loud.
I feel free only when I’m behind the screen.
But this isn’t living.
And perhaps someday I’ll leave this house.
To no longer hear her.
To no longer see her.
To avoid repeating her fate.
