Here’s how I see it.

I’ll sit here, yesterday, today and tomorrow and I will sit in silence, while you bash your mother, behind her back. I’ll listen to you call her a bitch; tell me how she ruins your life day after day.

In my head, I’ll egg you on; “Go on,” I’ll say, “keep talking.” You’ll keep telling me everything you hate about your mum. You’ll tell me how she puts so much pressure on you, or how once again she got something wrong.

And for every second you speak, I’ll hold back tears. I will hold back anger towards you. I will hold back everything. Because you don’t understand how lucky you are to have her. You don’t understand, that the moment you lose her, you will realise it was all out of love. She never meant to make you sad, she just wanted you to be happy and safe. You don’t see that, because you have her. You can bash your mum all you like, because at the end of the day – when you feel guilty… you can go and tell her you love her. You can hug her. You can kiss her.

Not me though. For every moment I wish I could take back, every moment I wish I told her I love her, I can go and visit a headstone down the road. I can sit twelve feet above my Mum on the solid ground, where I’ll cry for every mistake. I’ll cry for every I love you I never got to say. I’ll cry for my future, without her guiding me.