that daughterhood feeling of wanting to blame your mother for how you turned out, wanting to be angry at her for how youâve inherited her pain and her insecurities, but at the same time wanting to keep coming home to her, out of everyone else in the universe, because you know that if thereâs anyone who might be anything like youâif thereâs anyone who might even have a clue of what itâs like to be youâit could only be her. and no matter how many times youâve hurt each other, no matter how difficult it might be to get her to truly see you, you still just want her to love you as you are, to tell you that this isnât your fault, and to show you that she would keep letting you come home to her.





















