September 7th
Dear diary,
I struggle to talk kindly to my mother. Even when she's trying to be nice, I snap at her because I feel like she's not being her real self. Her "real self" has never been nice to me.
To me, she's never cared about my life, what I like or what's going on. I was never able to confide in her or ask advice that would not end in her telling me to "go to the cinema" to feel better. When she is asking about my life, it feels very nosey, her not minding her own business even though I know she's my mother and likely to worry about me. It's just that she loves gossip too much.
For a long time, she complained to me about the way I dress (either very "grandma librarian" or grungy-goth) or my haircuts because she had - and still doesn't - no control over these things.
When I started middle school, I had very gothic lolita shoes my grandma got me. She made fun of me publicly and told me people were mocking me.
We can't talk about serious, important topics. The only thing she's interested in is herself and how everything is affecting her. She's unable to care about my dad (whom she hates now) and his health issues for example. She never questions herself, her motives or the fact that she's making people's lives actually miserable. She does not talk to her siblings anymore because of things she wrongly perceives and accuses them of. She's convinced that because they have more diplomas and degrees than her, they think she's stupid. She thinks I view her as stupid. No one ever said this to her. She's super insecure and disguises it under narcissistic habits and words.
She told me that I'm insane for having compassion towards people in Afghanistan, for caring about other people in general. She only wants people to care about her. But she's not my God anymore.
With love,
Coco