What is the true reason why mothers decide to have children? To give them unconditional love? Or is it because the mother expects us to love her, unconditionally? She expects us to, love her. When she didn't really, love us. The mother is the same as the world, as the universe. When does it truly give us happiness? When did my mother truly give me happiness? I don't remember, because it never happened. She would sit around, waiting for that man to come back. While I would just, run away. I had to come back though, we always do.
While she would bring that man over and take him across the hall to do god knows what, I would search. Search for a meaning, explicitly, a job. Just a job, what kind did not matter to me. Even if it meant taking a little boy from his parents and waiting until they gave me money. If my job was to walk into a store, ask for some money out of the register, I would. The money I collect from my jobs are not for my mother, it is for me. Whatever I'm going to use it on in the future will not be for her, or for anyone else. Just me.
I walk into the shack I call my home and see, her. Staring at me, I know what she's going to do. "Give me the money," she said as she rose her shaking hand. "you don't need it." Even if I didn't need it, I would never give it to her. She may think she's allowing me to stay here, however I know that is not the case. I allowed her to stay here, she did not command me. She could be a whore who sleeps around with men to pay the bills, she could remain uncleanly with her putrid piss stained teeth, she can even keep the house littered with needles and syringes. However, she can not command me.
I do not know when I had ran over and wrapped my hands around her neck, however I did not care. I leave her alone for the most part, I buy groceries for the most part, I do everything for the most part. So why must she open her mouth? I begin to see her gasping for air. Clawing at my forearms, begging for oxygen. I wished that I could finish this quickly, wake up, and see flies eating off her dead corpse. Alas, things do not work well for me. I let go of her frail neck and back off from her.
As soon as she recovered, she slapped me. The bitch. The whore. She slapped, me? A face of indifference washes over my features. I look at her, then I see something behind her, it was white and long. It looked like a baseball bat. I look back at her and see a face of realization, then horror. I turn my attention back to the baseball bat.
Maybe I should be considerate. I haven't been treating them right. I do suppose being kind is the right thing to do at the moment. I shoot her a look of sympathy, and I see her visibly relax. So I begin to walk towards her, when finally we're at arms length, I see her raise her arms. As if she was going to hug me.
Instead, I reach over and grab the bat.
I guess, maybe I should be kind to the flies. They've probably been starving. I'll admit, it was a bit hard to aim considering I've never played baseball before. That, or maybe it was my eyesight, I really couldn't see anything except red.