"Best Version" - an abstract original oil painting, textured woman painting, bright girl art, mother and daughter painting, contemporary living room wall art




STORY 2: 

MOTHER

When you were born, I finally found meaning in my life. Everything shone with bright colors! And, looking into your pink face, I swore we would always be together, no one would ever part us. I'd give you everything, especially what I myself had never had.

You were my hope.

I've always wanted you to be someone. I didn't want my daughter to waste her youth in vain, as I did: rush to get married and give birth in my 20s (to your elder sister who was raised by your nanny). I didn't want you to depend on men. I wanted you to keep your feet on the ground.

I made a titanic effort towards this. I tried to give you only the best - education, prospects, life. We had tutors, a private kindergarten, then your reputable school and a prestigious college. I was looking for the best teachers, acquaintances and connections. You must have been a Lawyer in a Successful Company, a Senior Partner, a Star, Whose Consultation was Worth Real Money.

I even had a candidate for your husband in mind who suited you perfectly.

You see, I really tried. 

But my God, why did You give me such an idiot?!

I'm sorry my daughter turned out to obviously haven't got anything. I'm sorry her brain is broken, she is barking mad and has two left hands. And I'm sorry she has never appreciated everything that I put into her. I'm really sorry...

But, hell, she must have been perfect. Must have been the best version of myself, damn it. But from a meek angel she turned into a worthless weak-willed mollycoddle where she had to get her way, and a stupid pig-headed dummy when she had to obey and accommodate. Whatever she has ever undertaken, she never completes it. If it wasn't for me, I suspect she wouldn't even have finished school. And scrubbed the floors in a public restroom. And would have made me a grandmother at 40.

…Yeah…

…I remember exactly the evening when everything broke. You then came back home from college and the moment you entered the house, I realized: you were utterly different. A stranger to me. And that weird year on August 16, you said THOSE words to me. After them, I could not pull myself together. Everything began to get confused and drowned in the fog...

DAUGHTER

My childhood, my life with you was captivity, mom. You were a monster devouring me both outside and inside.

At first, I tried to please you, do everything so that you were happy. But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough for you. And I was always an "idiot."

I was scared of you. Your mood swings, regular outbursts of anger, eternal discontent and irritation. When your key was turning in the lock, I almost instinctively hid in the closet and stayed there for hours, like a mouse, just to get some peace and quiet.

For many years I'd been suffocating near you. For many years you hadn't let me breathe freely, been smothering me with your nagging, insults, and demands so fiercely that my soul cracked and came apart. You controlled my every step, rummaged through my notebooks and personal diaries. Imposed friends, college, work, hobbies, leisure - everything. And reproached and insulted again. I'm still allergic to the word "idiot". 

I wasn't myself near you. I wasn’t anyone at all. I wanted to be lost. Disappear from the face of the earth and die.

And I tried... I wonder if you remember THAT day, mom..

I know: I should have lived YOUR life - the one you never lived. And I must have realized YOUR dreams that you hadn't made come true for yourself. And it was impossible to leave you or hide from you and your determination to achieve your goal.

And once I got tired of being silent and obedient. I burst out talking. I released what'd been pent up inside for years. Everything that I was afraid to speak up for myself. Everything that I had been through with you. EVERYTHING. Even today, I believe the words I said then were fair to say. And to this day in my heart, I call you "bitch", not mother. And I can't forgive you - there are too many scars left. But that very day I was going to get away from you. To just live. It's weird that news didn't lead to your usual fit of temper that evening. You didn't even begin to routinely insult me. But you did worse: you just lost your mind. With a diagnosis of schizophrenia, you were going to handcuff me to yourself forever. Just as you always wanted.

Today I only call my sister occasionally. She sends money to the asylum where you are living in warmth and relative satiety.

And I'm living my life. Even if it's not happy, it's MINE.


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