After hearing those words, my mind couldn't stop replaying them over and over again. Evidence. Proof. It was like they were carved into my skin. Every time I looked in the mirror, that's all I saw. Not me. Not her daughter. Just evidence.
I started thinking about everything again. Why she brought me here. Why she fought to have me live with her. Why she always pushed me to be close to the man I couldn't stand to be near. It wasn't because she cared about what I had been through. It wasn't because she wanted to heal me. It wasn't even because she loved me. It was because she needed me. She needed me like a stamp on paper. Something to show the world: Look, I can have children too.
I felt so used. I felt so betrayed. It was like my whole life was just one big trick. She didn't really want me here as her daughter. She wanted me here because I made her look good. Because without me, maybe people whispered things she couldn't stand. Maybe she was embarrassed. So she dragged me here, not out of love, but out of pride.
I couldn't stop crying. My body was tired of crying but my heart wouldn't stop. I sat in my room staring at the walls, asking myself, Why me? Why was I born? Why did she even have me if she didn't want me for me? I thought about all the times she ignored me when I tried to talk about my dad. I thought about all the times she pushed me toward someone I was terrified of. I thought about all the times she chose her pride over my pain. And now, it all made sense. She didn't see me as her baby. She saw me as a tool.
The betrayal sank deeper than anything else. Because when it comes from your mother, it feels final. Like if even she doesn't want you for real, then who will? I felt stripped of everything. I felt naked in the worst way. My heart was so heavy I could barely stand.
I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to ask her why. I wanted to make her see how much she had hurt me. But I didn't. I couldn't. Because what if she said it again? What if she admitted it to my face? I wouldn't survive hearing it again. So I stayed quiet. I stayed locked in myself. My silence was safer than her truth.
Every time I saw her after that, I felt the distance grow. I couldn't hug her. I couldn't smile at her. I couldn't even look her in the eye for too long. Because all I saw was someone who brought me here for her own reasons, not because of me. All I saw was someone who called me her daughter but didn't really treat me like one.
And I kept wondering, if she didn't really want me, then why am I here? Why am I still here, breathing, living, trying? If the person who gave me life only sees me as evidence, then what am I worth?
That thought haunted me every day. It followed me to school, to bed, to every corner of my mind. I was no longer just broken by the world. I was broken by the person I thought was supposed to protect me the most. And there's no wound deeper than that... The pain of your own mother not wanting you... If she doesn't want me then how can anyone else ? What am I doing here? What really is my purpose?
I thought of ending it all but... I owed it to her... Coming to her when she didn't need me and making her marry that horrible man.... I would stay for her... Even if it meant being miserable