Mum beat up my sister, in front of my niece. Mum’s in her fifties, my sister is in her twenties, and my niece is less than ten.
 

I’ve said it all, when it comes to my history with the Rents. I’ve only had the same story to tell since I’ve been keeping a blog. Hell, since I was four and had to live with these motherfuckers, it’s been the same story. The only surprising thing is that it hasn’t changed. Don’t people get too old to be abusive, at some point?
 

What really kills me is that when my sister called, she was bawling her eyes about the fact that my niece had seen it. Because my sister was a child when she saw me getting fucked up, so she already knows that this is how the cycle of abuse starts.
 

What really, really kills me is that I let Mum meet Halo. A year ago, I was like, Fuck that bitch. She didn’t deserve a piece of anything good in my life. But then you get soft. People with good mothers, like Halo and my Dad, convince you that you can’t ever actually hate your own mother. “She’s making an effort; you should try too.” I’m the dummy who started believing again. The bitch was good to me and Halo for half an hour over lunch, and I let myself hope. I went up for Christmas, and felt like I had a mother again for half a day.
 

If you’ve always had a mother, you don’t understand what I mean. Imagine if she was dead, and then came back to life to spend a holiday with you. That was how I felt. It was the highest of hopes to think that she had changed, after everything that has gone down.
 

And then I got another phone call, children. Do you know how much of my life I’ve spent getting THESE FUCKING PHONE CALLS? With someone I love crying and bleeding on the other end of the line? I’m sick of this shit!
 

I don’t have a mother because the kind of person who does these things can’t be one. Being a mother is more than spawning someone, and these vicious things she does don’t fit the definition.
 

I don’t know what I’m gonna say to Halo tomorrow. His mother makes soup for him still; mine didn’t even teach me what a birthday is. My dad is the same; his mother was the greatest. And I really can’t listen to one more optimistic motherfucker who doesn’t have attachment issues, telling me that it’s going to be okay someday, and I should lighten up. Tell that to my scarred sister, who finally had it beaten into her last night that she doesn’t have one decent parent to lean on, because both of the Rents have told her to her face that they don’t want her.
 

I’m ready to erase the Rents from any kind thought of mine. I wish a bitch would tell me that I shouldn’t.