I Don't Want To Be Your Mother, I Didn't Carry You In My Womb For Nine Months

[desertions]

Yesterday was good
Got to see my friends, hang out, ignore problems for a while
It was nice, even if it didn't last
Cause of course, it didn't
Today has been a disaster

My mom is doing badly
I mean, really, really badly
She's hysterical every day now
She's called me about ten times today
She says she got mugged this morning, but her story has a lot of holes
Makes me wonder if it was something her head created
It's so hard to tell with her anymore

So she just keeps calling me and calling me, complaining about everything
Crying and sobbing, as if I should know how to magically make things better

And I can't
I can't

I finally lost it, crying and telling her I couldn't deal with it
That I was tired of the positions she puts me in
That I can't listen to her feeling sorry for herself

Then I hung my phone up on her
And then I started throwing things, like my cell phone and other things
Till I finally just huddled in a corner, crying my eyes out
They still hurt

I still hurt

And she keeps calling, and I can't answer the phone
I can't deal with it
I am not strong enough to deal with her when she gets this bad

I AM THE CHILD HERE NOT HER

I wish for once, she would just act that way

And I know eventually, she'll call
And I'll pick up and apoligize
And she'll guilt trip me, making me feel worse

But for right now I'm going to just keep avoiding it

Cause lord knows I'm triggered enough right now

Song of The Entry:

Not the Doctor by Alanis Morrisette

I don't want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don't want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don't want to be a bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don't want to be your babysitter
You're a very big boy now
I don't want to be your mother
I didn't carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor

I don't want to be the sweeper of the egg shells that you walk upon
And I don't want to be your other half, I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don't want to be your food or the light from the fridge on your face
At midnight, hey
What are you hungry for
I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights
I don't want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor

I don't want to live on someday when my motto is last week
I don't want to be responsible for your fractured heart
And it's wounded beat
I don't want to be a substitute for the smoke you've been inhaling
What do you thank me
What do you thank me for

Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at 10 past 6
Well I already know that you'd find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it's too much to ask for and I am not the doctor