i've come to the realization that my mother knows things about me that i never planned her to find out. mostly because she has gone through everything i own since i have moved out moved in and moved away. i have also come to understand that neither her nor i will ever speak of these things, due to their depressive and unforgivable details. we will just ignore that elephant in the room like it is invisible to us, just like everyone else. however, someday, somehow, i'm sure things will surface. but that may be when she's dying, or i'm dying, or it just may be after we're dead. or it could be the next time i'm desperate for her financial mercy.
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