When I was born, I loved you for feeding me and giving me life. Your warmth and embrace shielded me like a blanket before the storm. I never doubted that you loved me, yet I doubted love for myself.

Years go by, and I'm learning to understand the differences between a mother and her child. Two different worlds living in the same house, so every word said was always shouted out. No-- yes- no, I understood her pain, but I couldn't let myself lose without any gain. 

Because I love you, I struggled to tell you what's on my mind. You always worry, stress, and cry and I never understood why. You always work and always scream from the kitchen to the rooms. I avoided letting you in no matter how much you wanted to know how I've been.

Looking back, I should have handled things differently and used my words. I felt isolated whenever I tried being someone else. The only daughter out of three boys, had to be the utmost perfect girl of your choice.

Because I love you, I never wanted to come out. One day, I had to be the perfect wife with the perfect husband, and the perfect grandchildren you wanted to talk about. In the end, nothing mattered once everything came out.

Because I lied to you, I crushed your dreams and gave you self doubt. Because it was either I let you love someone who was in your mind, or I finally learned to love myself. I'm sorry, mom, because I love you.