three
when i get a new pack, i always flip three.
three lucky cigarettes.
when i looked at the sky tonight, it looked like it was painted especially for me.
the orange sun was setting,
and it was glowing off of the dark rainclouds above my unprotected head.
it almost restored my faith in a god.
almost.
the sky waited to pour.
it waited for us.
so i appreciate that.
thank you.
like i was saying
about the cigarettes.
i'd flip three,
one for each parent i'd lost.
two biological,
one adopted.
and you know,
i always felt like i owed you.
for adopting me,
you
know?
you didn't have to do that.
you really didn't have to.
especially since you never
wanted me
anyways.
deep down, i still believe
that you're a strong person.
a strong woman.
you've been through a lot,
i'll give you that.
but i think
you let it get to your head.
you think that now
everyone else owes you.
you thought you could push me around.
abuse me.
mistreat me.
and i'd sit and take it.
because you are strong.
and i owe you,
right?
today, my beautiful strong mother,
i decided that you'd kicked me out
for the last.
time.
i'm done being used by you.
i've never done anything wrong to you.
not anything to warrant the constant emotional abuse.
you wrecked me.
and at the end, you still expected me to say:
"thank you."
so as i walked down the familiar path i'd walked a million times before,
i decided that this was the final time.
you've gone too far.
i mean,
shit,
you've always gone too far.
how can i love you?
when you make it
so
hard?
i can't pretend anymore.
so as i walked down the path.
i pulled out my pack.
three lucky cigarettes.
and tonight, i flipped one more.
and made it
four.
i'm saying thank you for the last time.
i'm saying sorry for the last time.
now,
i live for myself.
see you on the other side,
momma.
just know that i used to love you.
