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I think my mother wishes I was dead. 

Dear mother, 
Do you wish I was dead? I know we don't have much in common, and therefore we don't have a great deal to talk about. But have I really outlived your expectations of how long I should be alive? 

It's very sad isn't it? But I feel this way, because after our argument in the car that other Sunday, not only did you not talk to me for a week and a half, but you pounced on the opportunity. 

I feel like, perhaps, maybe you think I think I'm better than you. I can't help feeling that you'd be a happier person, in the long run, if I were dead. You're constantly communicating to me that I'm not good enough. You constantly blame me for ridiculous things. You're never happy with me. I always feel like I've done something wrong. 

If you were more that way inclined, then I could talk to you about this. But you don't listen, and you don't talk about these things. I have to stew in my own juices about these issues. 

I love you mum, but you're inscrutable at the best of times. 



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