She's the Boss

10

I'm so stupid.

I can't believe I stayed for five whole years.

I'm a smart woman, I'd like to think.

But flushing five years down the drain, clinging to these fantasies and little moments.

God, I'm just stupid.

How stupid was I?

He didn't love me, he never told me he did. I never thought he did.

But I thought he cared about me.

I thought if nothing else he cared for his son.

And... I felt like I couldn't get better than care. So I settled. I figured I didn't deserve love, and that I should take what I could get.

I let him use me. Toy with me.

I don't even respect myself why the f**k would he? Now I'm back to square one, alone, as usual.

I get it now, god! I get it!

I'm a joke!

How did miss the punch line?

I will always be alone.

All I have is me.

All I will ever have is me.

My son?

He will be better. 

I'll make sure he's better.

Maybe if he's better than I am, he can be loved.

Hopefully he's not cursed like me.

Memories play as I look out the window in a cliche manner.

I will it to rain, but it won't.

The sun shines brightly, taunting me.

My eyes make their own rain, letting a single drop fall.

How is it I get myself in these situations?

Was I made to be abused?

Is that my purpose?

I thought I would never disappoint myself again, but I'm more disappointed than I've ever been.

I feel ashamed.

Ashamed that I let these men jerk me around, just so I can feel just bit of love once in a while.

No more.

"Mamma, are we leaving Dad?"

"Yea, bub. We're leaving Dad."

"Good. All he ever does is make you cry."

I grit my teeth, willing myself not cry as my lower lip wobble.

"That's not nice, Bub."

"Sometimes the truth isn't nice Mamma," he says sagely looking away.

"But it doesn't make any less true."

"How did you get so smart?" I smile at him.

"From watching." He says quietly.

My heart drops.

"Y'know your Dad loves you, bub."

"No he doesn't," he snaps, his little fist clenched.

"He doesn't love me. If he did, then you wouldn't cry in the laundry room, and I wouldn't be a bastard,"

I gasp.

"But I am and you do, so he doesn't love me."

All I can do is scoop him up and hold him. I can only cry and apologize.

"I'm so sorry, bubba. Momma's so sorry,"

And even though the taxi driver like he wanted to drop the pair of us at an asylum, I kept on hugging him and crying until I fell asleep on the road to happy.