All I Wanted

Every action has a reaction. Your done with me. Maybe I’m done with you, or maybe I’m done with your attitude. The way you act towards me. The way you could be so nice and loving and caring. And hurtful and nasty and mean the next. Watch the way you treat me. I have more then one option. Maybe Im done with looking into my lap and seeing a puddle of tears and having no one to talk to. Maybe I hate how you say things. What you say and when you say it. How it kills me everytime when you tell me awful things and I feel like I have a whole in my chest and stop breathing and lay there gasping for air. How everything starts to spin and I hear hurtful things in my ear once again. How everything seems to come crashing down all at once faster than my tears fall off my face. How my eyes sting and burn because the pain you caused me, the lies you told me and everyone else. The show you put on in front of people. Does it matter how I feel? No. As long as your happy with your self. Does it matter what I need? No. As long as your okay. Does it matter that I needed a loving mother my whole life, for the times I’ve sat in the shower and screamed and cried because all I needed was you, to understand me? Because I needed someone to talk to. Instead I put my trust in my stepmother, the one Ive always told everything to. The one that was there when I was sad because my mom was drunk the night before and hit me and slammed me down. The one that I told every little thing to first. The one that handled everything for me, when I was struggling and was hurting myself would talk to me on the phone and try to understand what was wrong. The one that I called when my mom was drunk and would throw things around and scream and yell at her boyfriend then come and take it out on me. All I wanted was you, the whole time. And you know what everyone always asks me? Why are you still there? Because I’m always hoping… Maybe just maybe. Our relationship will be all stiched up and patched together. That one day I can talk to you without screaming or yelling or threats involved. That one day I will be happy wth what you have to say, but the truth of the matter is, till that day comes, I’ll still be waiting for someone to talk to. For my mother. My role model. The one I look up to.