Dear Mom,

Why We Don't Talk Anymore (Hint, You're a Narcissist)

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Not that you will ever read it in the first place, though I’m sure you would love to so you could find another thing to feel like a victim about.

I wanted to delete that sentence. On the off chance you do read this, it felt mean. But then I realized something: I can’t STAND the thought of hurting you. It makes my skin crawl and makes me want to rip out my hair and vomit. How different things might be if you cared about hurting me in the same way. How funny is that?