“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry it was so hard for you, and that my existence ruined your life. I really, truly feel for you. I know you think it’s my fault, but it’s not like I asked to be born.” “I know you didn’t, baby,” she says, sitting down beside me on the bed. “And I know I wasn’t always the best mama to you. But you’re doing real good for yourself, and I want you to know I’m proud of that.”
I’m not crying, you’re crying
