I Meant to Say

My mother called me today. I had a lot to tell her but didn’t say any of it so as usual, I’ll purge myself online. Here goes:

I know what you want to hear when you call me but I choose to ignore your unspoken questions.

I know we’re both getting older. I’m terrified you will die before seeing my children.

When you told me my younger cousins were getting married and you paused to hear my reaction, my heart did skip a beat but I belted out ‘congratulations!’ because I didn’t want you to see my pain.

I would love to quit my job and let’s be honest, my life and move to New Zealand and start afresh but I can’t run away from my problems. I’ll only be carrying them to NZ.

I am more terrified than you are that I will end up alone.

I want to give you the very best things that money can buy but I can’t afford it.

I want to tell you about the wonderful dreams I have but I do not have the words so I’m silent.

When I wake up, I ask myself why my life seems so irrelevant.

I wished I wasn’t in so much debt.

I wished I was the kind of daughter you were proud of.

You mistake my gaiety for joy. When I laugh, I’m dying inside.

I laugh a lot because I don’t want people to see the real me.

There are so many things I want to say to you but I can’t. The words get stuck in my throat.

I wished we didn’t have so many pauses in our conversations.

I wished it wasn't like this.