"From my years of living with my mother I have come to know her quite well. Sometimes she would show utter disdain towards me, but other days I'm treated royalty. It was similar of how I feel about her; conflicted on whether I love or hate her.
She worked as a politician, constantly tired of the pointless noise around her job. The days that she's more stressed I had learned to let her have her space. If she would want to talk about it, she would speak first. She's a very assertive woman, who puts a cold facade up until you can finally gain her trust. Once you do she is an incredibly warm person... most of the time.793Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmTPDWJ1geP
Often as a kid I wondered why she didn't pursue art as a career. I realize now that it isn't the best career choice and my mom was quite aware of that fact. Even though she enjoyed any form traditional of art and has mastered the skill. I remember one time she pushed back her slick black hair with a concentrated smile as she blended colors together to make a radiant girl underneath an umbrella in which the dark storm could not reach her.
"See this, Ahri?" My mom pointed at the umbrella with a pale finger smudged with a multitude of colors. "You are the bright colors and I am the girl. You brighten my day."
Sweet gesture as it was, as a young boy I didn't understand the metaphor. She simply gave an exhausted smile at my confused and tired expression stating that it was time to go to bed.
Now, my mother was and was not a good parent at the same time. She treated me with love and took care of me well enough. The problem comes in when she tries to meld me into a form that she wanted me to be. Her expectations were high and stubborn, maybe that was what grew a rift between us.
At times she was upset that I looked almost exactly like my father, the negative emotions showing crystal clear on her face. At those times she was... well, out of it as one might say.
She's done some bad things and she's done some good, like every other human being. May... her soul finally find true peace in the afterlife."
A black haired, petite man stepped down from the podium and sat next to his lover. The blonde leaned in close and whispered, "it's okay to cry."
And that the man did.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
