She didn’t change

Welp…

After analyzing my mother again—just in case—

turns out she just wants her tool back.

Getting close to her isn’t really about me.

It’s access.

No matter how small.

She probably expects me to take care of her when she’s older.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to take care of someone I see as disposable.

I’d probably do it out of obligation.

With an assigned nurse.

I know everyone is.

But the odds are against her.

Especially after realizing I shouldn’t treat her like a person.

Just someone to tolerate.

While keeping my peace.

And she isn’t peaceful.

If anything, she’s a magnet for problems.

If she were a stranger, I wouldn’t be around her.

She’d be forgotten within a day.

Honestly…

I barely see any of my relatives in my dreams.

It’s like they don’t exist.

She’s entitled.

Always angry.

Always something going on.

And for some reason, she gravitates toward things that don’t matter to anyone.

I’ve started noticing the patterns.

Some of them have something to do with my neck.

Sometimes she hints at wanting to strangle me.

To my face.

I know she used to a lot.

This year… only once.

At least that I noticed.

Probably because we’re not as close.

But now I’m wondering

if tonight made it two.

Like how Homer does to his son.

Today, she hid it under a joke.

A TikTok thing.

Put the pasta in your mouth—

then pretend your neck was snapped.

Maybe she was trying to lift my mood.

But…

there’s always a silence after.

Where I’m left wondering

if she meant it.

After paying attention to her,

I didn’t see anything new.

Pick a day when I’m not already sore from work.

No one wants to come home to a problem.

I’m not one of those men who wants something to fix.

It’s not up to me to fix someone’s attitude problem.

My stepfather must like coming home to this.

I don’t.

I just want to be left alone.

Not deal with someone who’s allergic to letting things go.

Someone who thinks—

if I’m having a bad day,

then we all are.

My day isn’t hers to decide.

And if I actually played her game…

she’d probably crack.

Hide behind her pride like she always does.

Process your emotions quietly.

I can do it.

There’s no excuse for her.

I don’t go spilling my life story.

Not my complaints.

Not even at work.

I don’t bother people.

I get that it’s her choice.

But she better not have a problem with mine.

And knowing her…

I don’t trust her to respect that.

When has she ever?

Why does she act so incapable?

Like I’ll believe it.

She’s in her… actually, I don’t even know her age.

But 40–50 is enough to know how to act.

I don’t consent to ending up like her.

That kind of lack of emotional regulation isn’t worth it.