You always get away with more than I ever could. I am always at fault, always the one at blame, always the one that let her down. Obviously, she doesn’t know enough about me to she how many times she has let me down. And it kills me knowing that she shows you twice as much love in an hour than she does to me in a day. I secretly cried when she broke her promise about my sweet sixteen, but kept hers to you about going for a walk. Am I really that insignificant to her? Are you really that much more important than me? I act all independent, but it hurts to see her petting your head as you fall asleep in her lap…like she used to do to me. Even now, my eyes are red and cheeks stained with tears, because I know you mean the world to her and I mean less. When she is lonely, she calls to you, not me, and it is you who takes my spot on the couch. I used to feel lucky having her as a mother, but now that you have taken my place, it’s hard to feel anything anymore. I lie and say I love her and we both know that my hatred for her is pure and ever flowing. I just wish I were gone for a day. To show her that she needs me to be there. Just to be there. Just to give her a fake smile on this tear stained face.