I’m fed up! My mother is an oblivious woman whom men use and then toss aside.
I’m writing this because I have no one else to confide in…
I’m 19 years old. I was born and raised in Birmingham.
I don’t know who my father is.
My mother never spoke of him, and when I asked, she would coldly respond:
– He doesn’t exist. Forget about him.
I grew up without a father, without a family, without a sense of comfort or warmth.
I’ve become accustomed to being alone.
But most importantly, I got used to being second in my mother’s life.
She would forget about me for the sake of men.
Every time a new man entered her life, I became invisible.
She would primp in front of the mirror, pick out outfits, and spend her last money on perfumes and makeup.
I would sit in my room, knowing today I was not needed.
Then, a few weeks or months later, the meltdowns would begin.
She would cry, complain, say that she had been betrayed again, used once more, left once again.
And I would sit there beside her, listening, nodding, trying to comfort her.
But I knew that in another few weeks, the cycle would repeat.
She didn’t understand anything.
She couldn’t see how her behavior was destroying my faith in relationships, in family, in love.
From a young age, I realized one thing – a man in her life would always be more important than I was.
I became an outsider in my own home.
Whenever she had a new “suitor,” the phone would ring incessantly.
And I knew – there was no place for me at home anymore.
I stopped believing her, ceased to feel anything for her except irritation.
I became cold.
I could no longer listen to her whining, couldn’t comfort her after each new failure.
She’s a grown woman, yet behaves like a spoiled child.
And I…
I feel like an old man.
Tired of her tears, her empty hopes, her endless mistakes.
And do you know what’s the most frightening thing?
I don’t want a relationship.
I can’t even imagine trusting anyone.
I grew up in a house where love is a lie, betrayal, and pain.
I can’t bear to witness it.
Sometimes she comes home drunk.
Sometimes she brings home the “next one.”
I lie in another room and hear their laughter.
And inside, I feel everything twisting with disgust.
I’m nauseated.
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 about how I feel.
She only cares about herself.
The internet is my only escape.
Do you know what saves me?
Only the internet.
It’s the only place I can express what I would never say aloud.
I feel free only when I’m sitting at the screen.
But this isn’t living.
And perhaps one day, I’ll leave this house.
To avoid hearing her.
To stop seeing her.
To escape from her fate.
