mother
I always felt like I carried so much of my motherβs pain within me. I almost feel guilty for all of her sorrows and I canβt detach her karma from mine. We are so easily entangled with sadness, aggression, anger, and regret. I feel like I owe her too much, I am in debt for all the karma she burned for me, I will never be able to pay her, to give back what she killed herself to gift me. I almost wish she wouldnβt care about me, she would just let me run into the woods and get lost. At my worsts, I feel like I was being greedy, killing myself when I had given her so little. I didnβt see my life as worth saving for my own existence, but rather by killing my physical body, I was murdering my mother. Sometimes I wish her mother was still alive because I canβt help but feel like the burden of motherhood was bestowed upon me as a wicked wish, as something so powerful yet so humiliating. I became a mother at age six. I wish she wouldnβt cry, I want to scream at her when she does so because her pain leaves no room for mine. I wish she were happy, I wish I could detach myself from her and be a different woman. Her genes have poisoned me with the karma of generations. The day I was born no matter was created for my mother had diverted her hopes, dreams, and sins into my unholy body. And yet, it doesnβt matter how far I run for I always come back to her arms as a crying child, I find home within her and I let myself get burned between her kisses.
