Insomnia

I lay in bed as the hours passed--ten, eleven, twelve, one...one thirty...one fourty-five...still no rest. I have school in a few hours.

My mind is restless.

I feed her, I buy her clothes, I take her out with me, I gladly drive her and a friend to the mall.
I check on her at least every hour, I talk to her about everything, I help her with homework. I worry about her.

I am always here for her. I try not to get mad at her for the little things. It doesn't bother me that much that she doesn't pick up after herself. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to when she has my stuff. I bring her surprises--earrings, her favorite fruit by the foot, bagels with tomato basil cream cheese. Never a thank you, but that doesn't even matter.

When she's sick, I feel like it's all my responsibility to make her feel better--she's always feeling bad. Yesterday, severe stomach aches--she missed school. Today, something about her eyes. I listen to her drone on about boys. I listen to her anger towards her teachers. I ask her to bring something to me...ten minutes later...she has forgotten.

I want the best for her; I tirelessly seek the best for her. I can't just leave for college.

I care about her; I love her. I never asked for anything in return--I never get mad when she leaves all her clothes all over the floor. I pick up her empty bag of chips. I wash her empty bowl of pasta that I cooked for her. I turn off the lights she leaves on. I give the shirt of mine she wants to wear. I give her necessities.

I hug her endlessly when she cries. I am her shield from my father.

But. Every night, I become more and more disappointed-- I know deep down there has to be part of Mom's heart in her. There just has to be...

I've seen her heart's beauty. It has to be there...was it a mere facade?

The only thing I ever wanted was her honesty, her trustworthy friendship; all she gives me are lies and attitude. It's not even the attitude that hurts--just..the lies. Dishonesty. I only get...tears and...pain.