Why do you look at me that way? What's it in me that's worth all those nasty things you say? Why do I offend you so? Why do you offend me so? Why not try to understand me, and not try to change me according to your understanding of who you want me to be? I can't think the way you do.



I'm not who you want me to be. You're not how I want you to be either. But I don't say you're a bad mother. Because you're not. But if you feel that way, no doubt it's because of me. You've said as much yourself.



I'm sorry for being the way I am. I truly wish I could ignore you, throw your words out of the window. But I can't. I'll change for you, if not for me. Because I know you won't be around very long and I want you to realise that you aren't such a bad mother afterall.



If only you believed how much I love you, above anything else. Be it the sun, the rain or touch-me-nots. You top them all.