What girl doesn’t have issues with her mother? But i feel like in so many other instances there’s an underlying love that holds through. a bond of friendship that allows you to be so frustrated and angry with her that you could scream, but still need her help when you are at your most desperate. I have the former, not the latter.

But my thoughts and feelings and efforts have failed to make any impact on her to let her know how i feel. And i cannot keep these things bottled up, so i have put it out into the interwebs. It doesn’t matter if anyone really reads it, only that i can get the roiling, boiling out of my head where it cannot putrefy my otherwise lovely thoughts.

The pseudonym i’ve chosen so thinly veils me, anyone who really knows me will see how i scrambled myself up, but am still myself in the end. myself who is hurting, but trying not to. myself who will do whatever it takes to work through my pain, even if it has to be alone.

I was born in 1984, year of the rat, under the sign of Cancer. I met my husband at the ridiculous age of 19. i will be 29 this year, and so will he… for the fifth time. Our crocodile was born in the late summer of 2011 after an appalling 37 hours of labor and in the not too distant future we hope to add another.

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