Some people aren't built happy.

I don't know if this is the best version of myself.
I know my mere existence has already fucked things up for my mother. I don't know if a part of her hates me for that, I don't know if she regrets it. She had so many things to give up and sacrifice just for me, and I don't know how I'll ever get to pay that back to her. I don't really know if she actually likes me. I know she liked me even less when I was growing up.
I know we both silently cry in our rooms many nights for different reasons, and I know the next day we pretend we are strong and unaffected by adversities or about what each thinks about the other.

When I started writing this my mom had to travel, and it had been almost a week since I saw her; the last interaction we had was an argument over something so insignificant I can't even remember what it was, then some minutes of silence, then a hug, a kiss and a ''call me when you're there''. Today when she returned, she brought me a cake and we just sat in our backyard talking about each other's week.

Even if I like being alone I do miss my mom, even if we fight over things that don't even matter that much I love her. Even when I might seem distant, I'm grateful for everything she's done.