my mother is never happy with how no one in the house can seem to put things at the exact, correct angle it is supposed to be at. her self-proclaimed "ocd". we have a conversation about this “ma, you can’t say that, it’s an actual illness”
“they're just words, which confuses me,
because you're a writer and a reader
and also a woman
and you should know more than anyone
how much words matter
you'll learn it doesn't matter”
she is always shifting things around in the house. it used to irk me until i started finding myself doing the same,
tilting a photo frame on my desk just the right way every day
and i am never happy with myself.

a genetic disposition for perfection?
though one might argue that would need a certain amount of ‘perfect’.
i don’t drive myself to success, just despair. i can’t even drive myself to school, come on

it’s not like my mom kills me WELL,
it isn’t like she doesn’t expect,
anything’s fine as long as she knows i've tried can she believe i have, though?
if i don’t get straight As well, when was the last time i DID aside: insert ex-gifted kid monologue
or don't have perfect extracurriculars.

i DON'T want to become her. i am NEVER letting a man get in the way of my dreams, ...what dreams? you barely even know who you are, you know you…
NEVER having kids that early, ...i never regretted having you, bangaram, you’re my best friend...
NEVER going to stop working, ...you think i don’t work hard?? i slaved ALL DAY at home for this family, and now that i get to catch a break...
and never, Ever, EVER looking at the years gone by and thinking i wasted them, .........

i look up to my mother following her passions she’s always had a love for writing
and i’m scared i can’t love anything i wish i could love like she did
and i’m proud of her. at the risk of sounding patronising
so i guess i want to be her just about...
... ......erm
...this much.

my mother studied accounting and got married soon after, read: stopped dreaming
and for the first time in 17 my age
years,
she is working. and going to art and yoga classes that she pays for with her own money
and it is all very sweet

as i grow, i realise i am a reflection of her it’s like all the poems say,
oldest daughter, mirror of mother, yada yada
and maybe it’s some subconscious subversion of myself do i agree with the things she says and believes, because im scared of becoming
someone not entwined with her? or just, someone who is not hers
or am i MAKING myself do so?
because i imagine some of the things i think she wants from me
you know they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery i think i’ve ruined her enough
that flattery has no effect

can you be both a branch splitting off and away
i want my OWN opinions!
my own thoughts!
i will be successful out of spite for the world that ruined her
in the ways she couldn't
and a root i hope i never leave her
how am i supposed to live without her cooking,
hugs,
voice,
belief

at the same time?

i might be sabotaging myself.
i also might be more selfish than i’m coming across. this function is valid if and only if MY successes are a subset of HER regrets

we both, i think, strive for perfection.
maybe her patience
came with age,
and my overindulgence in everything that feels wrong
might be either a byproduct of my youth or just the world we live in. (upsettingly inconclusively.)