My mom doesn't like me. She knows it, I know it, my dad knows it, and my older sister knows it. So why can't she be one of those moms who, when they don't like their kids, ignore them? Instead, she's always fluttering around me with fake concerns, as if constantly being up in my face will hide the fact that she hates me.
She's the walls of the box I live in, and she's closing in, tightening the space, stealing the air... suffocating me.
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