Read and meet my friends, here’s the link for you: The Friend List: Episode Six. Hope you like what you read.
You know how people say that they’ve got a mom friend? I’ve got a friend who also happens to be a mom. My mom.
Brace yourself for the most tragic backstory of all time: I can’t tell you that. But it’s pretty sad. I met her on 24th June, 1998 at precisely 14:14. Before that I’d spent some time stealing her food and using her as a cushion. My mother is beautiful, and people say I look like her Xerox version. But she’s vintage, and obviously cuter. My mother didn’t like me much when we first met, she thought I looked like a doll but didn’t like how clingy I was. I liked her better than everyone, and I hated how she left me at home with strangers when she went to work. I’ve been an introvert from birth, never liked people…still don’t like most of them. And the feeling is always mutual.
As I grew up, she started liking me more. Probably because I was finally speaking like a normal human instead of that dreadful baby talk. My mom started to have conversations with me, and slowly I became her confidant. Then I became her therapist. She’d pay me for my sessions in hugs, kisses and detective stories. I love detective stories and guessing games.
Weird thing about my mom: she’s very funny but she’ll never repeat a joke, especially if you ask her to. You can’t force her to do anything, if you do force her…she’ll do the exact opposite. Another weird thing, she likes mocking people and often gets on my nerves with her snarky comments. This is an unintentional thing she does, without realizing how rude it comes off. Even more so because she looks like an adorable cuddly mother figure with loads of warmth and love.
If you look at my mother, you’ll see a huggable teddy bear, more adorable than Whinny the Pooh. But at the same time, you’d see a beautiful woman with a perfect face. A face with flawless features, only humanized by the freckles that adorn it.
Our family has a long line of odd people, my mother’s father, my mother and myself. My mother finds my appearance similar to her mom’s and my personality akin to her dad’s. My mother and I have no secrets. All of my friends know that whatever massive secret they share with me is going to end up inside my mom’s head. Same thing applies for me when it comes to her friends.
Like mother like daughter, she too is lazy and loves food. Is a high-key bookworm and an English teacher. So you get why I like writing and stuff. I make her read my posts, while I’m writing them. And she remains forever quiet when I ask her to analyse and critique my writing. Doesn’t say anything bad about it, she is a mom after all.
She has a magnet that attracts stalkers, let me elaborate on that. She has a friend(?) who is the self-proclaimed daughter to my mother. Don’t ask me why she doesn’t leave or why my mom never gets rid of her. That is best left for another day. This stalker and I don’t see eye to eye. I hate her guts and she hates the fact that I exist. And this leech has got her teeth so deep into our skins, that she’s almost become a part of our family. Ugh, I hate her.
If you’re wondering why I’m ruining this post with the mention of her stalker, that’s because I want you give you more insight into our relationship.The unwillingness my mother displays to cut her off is one of the things I dislike about her most. I feel she doesn’t support me enough, has a lot of doubts about me. Now with that said, she is also the only person who cares about me. The only person I somewhat love and I don’t like sharing her, at all.Oh god, this sounds sappy.
My mom is wonderful, cool and extremely lovable. People literally want her instead of their original mothers. She’s rude, complicated and brilliant. She’s a paradox, a contradiction. She’s a witty weirdo.
She teases me about my crushes, watches movies with me. Sometimes freaks out when I obsess about the perfection that is Sophie Turner. We have the best time together. Our relation is great, and I hope that writing this doesn’t jinx it. That’s all for now.