To my mother...

Because there is no more dialogue between us,
and I'm not sure there ever was....
Because it was only a few times
I could talk WITH you about us,
Because you don't know how to listen,
really listen,
I choose to speak to you this way.
I choose to write what I feel
simply
as a memoir...

I'm not sure why,
but you keep repeating how much I hate you.
Hate?
I don't know what that means...
I don't know what that feels like...
It's not even a word in my vocabulary,
but you use it too much
to describe what you
don't seem to understand.

Pain,
that is what I feel...
Because you have trespassed all the limits
and continue to put the weight on me.
You say you miss our talks.
I miss them too.
But I want to be clear,
this was YOUR decision.
My distance was a reaction to your attitude.
And even when I warned you that this would happen,
you continued to act in a way I found extremely harmful.
I guess I have enabled you to do this,
all my life...
You just got used to my patience.

But things have changed now.
I have learned.
If it victimizes you to think that I hate you,
you may think whatever you please.
I will not justify myself, or feel pity for the both of us.
You speak of forgiveness...
I have tried HARD,
all my life
to forgive you.
Maybe I still can't,
for all the THINGS you've done,
that you seem to ignore.

Maybe this is why I need the distance.
Not to hate you,
but to forgive you.
And to forgive myself for having allowed you,
all these years,
to put so much weight on my shoulders.
Cause you never seem to take responsibility for your actions,
but you make others responsible.
That, I don't need.

When you speak of hate
it shows how little you know me,
and if it's true that we had so many laughs and talks and walks,
you should know better,
I do not know what hate means...

This is what I wrote to you on Feb 16, at 2.30pm.
That day you decided what it would be...

Mamá,
tu dolor me produce dolor.
Tu dolor me produce angustia porque quiero ayudarte, quiero amarte.
Pero siento que ya no puedo.
Que amarte me resulta doloroso...
Siento que el tiempo pasa y te pones peor,
mientras yo, me siento cada vez mejor.
Y voy llenando mi vida de amor, todos los días.
Quiero convidarte ese amor,
quiero compartirlo,
que lo sientas.
Quiero compartir con vos la dicha de vivir.
La luz que ilumina nuestras vidas.
Pero ya no puedo,
siento que tu ser apaga mi luz.
Quizá mi luz, no sea tan fuerte todavía.
Pero necesito protegerla,
Necesito llenarla de amor para que crezca...
y al lado tuyo no puedo.
Ocupandome de vos,
me agoto...
Termino exhausta...
Ya no puedo amarte.
O por lo menos expresar mi amor.
ya no puedo hacerme cargo de tu bienestar mamá.
Porque siento que sin importar lo que haga,
no encuentro la forma de aceptar tu manera de ser;
ni que vos puedas recibir mi amor,
porque no lo ves.
Tu dolor te ciega,
te hace incapaz de recibir,
porque te hace incapaz de dar.
Lo que pasó hoy me duele.
Duele como una daga en el pecho,
como un puñal en el corazón,
porque ahí es donde te llevo,
ahí es donde existo,
donde acumulo amor.
Tu actitud me perfora,
me hace perder la cabeza.
Me vuelvo chiquitita, insignificante y oscura.
Quizá con el tiempo pueda hacer que mi amor sea mas fuerte que tu oscuridad.
Pero por ahora,
ya no puedo,
ya no quiero,
definitivamente no necesito
tu dolor.

Te amo,
por siempre,
porque nunca dejaras de ser parte de mi,
porque soy parte tuya...