I was thinking about how my mom doesn’t understand parts of me, and how it hurts that some of the best things about me she will never understand. But at the same time we do share great memories. There are some things she gives me and not others. Sometimes it hurt to think I was giving a love that wasn’t reciprocated, but as I grew to even enjoy being a sun, giving unconditional light, I realized the hurt came from them not receiving it. There’s some kinds of light she won’t allow herself to receive.

There’s some parts of me my mom will never love or enjoy. It hurt when I was younger, but now I think it’s more unfortunate for her than for me, she doesn’t get to experience life the way I do. She doesn’t see the magic in the danger or the courage in the fear, the reward of starting new and the wholeness of being alone.