“You look exactly like your mother” they said. I beamed, proud. I was ten.
“Wow. Multi talented. Just like your mom”, they said. My smile grew bigger. I was 20.
“Why are you being exactly like your mom?”, They asked. I cringed.
“You dress exactly like her. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference. Same clothes?” They asked. I shrank.
“You have become your mom. Congrats.” They said. I died.
I might be confused, lost, anxious, nervous, irritating, fat, pretty, talented, horrible, whatever… But I’m me.
I would never be my mother. I’d have killed my child in one shot. Not enjoyed the slow torture into a dead existence.
Or maybe I wouldn’t. After all… I’m my mother!