☕☕Page and Post Number:Page 1, Post [1]Child Entry
dear Diary,
I am a Liar.
My mother is a waste of breath. That's what I think anyway, and if I'm going to pour my secrets in you you better believe every word I say.
I don't know, but it's just the way she walks through the door... The way she lays on the couch, falling asleep after yet again working herself to near death.
It's the way she leaves for town, not to go shopping for food or support the one child that still actually tries to live with her, the way she always needs a man to support her. She can't survive on her own.
Sometimes she'll bring someone home. I don't know. But then she'll tell me to go play, play in the dark. When the man leaves she is right back to where she started.
Sleeping.
Decaying.
What's the difference? She doesn't accomplish much outside of work. I barely know her, barely even got to know her before dad died.
These are the things I think, when I watch her sleeping on the couch after a hards night work. I wonder why she lives like this, almost as if she stopped living. How she expects to support as she is now.
Then I realized something.
This woman is decaying. She was spiraling out of control, no longer in control of her actions nor wanting to be in control of them. And if I leaned on her, as a child was supposed to, she would drag me down with her.
I can't trust her.
She's not family.
That's not my mother.
Those are the things I think as I watch her sleep.
She wakes up though, sitting up from the couch and wiping sleep from her eyes. Every morning it's the same thing : "Make me some coffee, Dianna dear?" And every day, I answer the same way
"Of course! I would love to help you Momma!" I don't think it's really lying. I just want her out of the house faster.
I'll fix her coffee, and she'll only leave with a hug and an "I love you".
And I'll say it.
Because I'm a liar.
And there's nothing wrong with that.
