I have been through a lot in my life.
A fire burning down the facility I was thrown in.
A painful transformation.
Solitude.
Idiots surrounding me, trying to win my favor.
The common nominator? Me.
I've caused them all.
But I doubt I caused this - peculiar situation.
Explain to me, please, why my mother started to fix her hair and lipstick tying to grasp the power back from me, thinking -in her utter madness- that I want her.
Sure, I want her misery.
Her tears.
Her total fall from the arms of the aristocracy and social norm.
But I don't want her as a woman.
And the worst part?
She took the step back, the shiver down my spine, the avoidance of her gaze as shyness. It's disgust.
Utterly, undoubtedly disgust.
I need to grip the situation before my mother grasps me.
I hear her Chanel heels moving that silicone body closer and closer.
Should I laugh or should I cry?
