She is a mother.

A mother I can barely remember,

Even though she was always there.

She is a best friend.

A best friend who swore to always be there.

But proved to not care as much as she said.

She is a substitute.

A substitute who filled the empty void in my heart.

The one who slammed the card down

On my already-crumbling tower

And dragged me down into a pit of self-loathing.

She is a parasite.

A parasite that drew me to her when I was scared and alone.

Who used me when she wanted

And dropped me whenever my value was drained.

I am a stronger person.

Who learned from my own mistakes

And from those of the people around me.