it seems to be widely accepted

that we end up like our parents

even diverging paths reuniting eventually

typical illusion of choice

you know, like in those video games

but they make them different these days

when I look at you,

the person I love most,

even though and because

I don’t understand us or love

I see the ways in which you have given

your self

for me, initially,

and then other reasons maybe

but ultimately

still for me,

probably.

I try to find the person that is my mother

but instead I find myself

coming back to motherhood.

in you I see a life of sacrifice,

a well of love and support.

but in me

I see a dilemma of selfishness.

you gain a purpose

for the price of responsibility

this most frightening thing

you gain a purpose

and lose the freedom

of fucking up

only yourself

is having someone you truly love

more than anything

worth seeing them in pain?

of course you didn’t know

and I’m so sorry to disappoint

but how could I ever

– knowing the pain of existence –

inflict it?

I’m an actor, a storyteller

I should be able to imagine genuine joy

at being

at being alive

the will to live and life

as a gift

instead of a burden

my gift of life comes wrapped

in a pained body –

shortened muscle, weak connective tissue, and a slow metabolism

tied up in a mind cut to ribbons

no colour, no sparkle, just grey matter.

how much pressure on nurture:

to be fucked up by nature

when I cannot even be trusted with myself.

you would make the world a better place

but is that worth forcing you

into a world that so badly needs to be bettered?

I’m sorry. you don’t deserve –

for your sake, I’ll be my own do-over.

– text and illustration by Pat Nehls