“Mum, I’m Sorry for Being Born. But It’s Not My Fault. Soon I’ll Leave, and You Won’t See Me Again”: Emily’s Tears

I remember the day I started school like it was yesterday. My mum, Sarah, had woken up early to prepare me for my first day. She braided my hair neatly and handed me a small bouquet of flowers to give to my teacher. I was excited and nervous, but mostly I was happy to see my mum smiling at me, even if it was just for a moment.

As I walked into the classroom, I felt a mix of emotions. The other children seemed just as nervous as I was, but they were also excited. I tried to focus on the teacher’s words, but my mind kept drifting back to my mum. I wondered if she would be proud of me today.

Growing up, I always felt like I was walking on eggshells around my mum. She had a temper that could flare up at any moment, and I never knew what would set her off. I tried my best to be a good daughter. I did my chores without being asked, helped her with the shopping, and always tried to make her happy. But no matter what I did, it never seemed to be enough.

There were days when she would look at me with such disappointment that it made my heart ache. I couldn’t understand why she was so unhappy with me. Was it something I did? Or was it just who I was? These questions haunted me every day.

One evening, after a particularly rough day at school, I came home to find my mum in one of her moods. She barely acknowledged me as I walked through the door. I quietly went to my room and sat on my bed, trying to hold back the tears. But they came anyway, hot and fast.

“Mum,” I whispered to myself, “I’m sorry for being born. But it’s not my fault.”

I knew she couldn’t hear me, but saying the words out loud felt like a small release. I wished things were different between us. I wished she could see how much I loved her and how hard I tried to make her happy.

As the days turned into weeks, the tension between us only grew. I started spending more time at school or with friends, anywhere but home. It was easier that way. But deep down, I knew that running away from the problem wouldn’t solve anything.

One night, after another argument with my mum, I made a decision. I would leave as soon as I could. Maybe then she would be happier without me around to disappoint her.

I packed a small bag with some clothes and a few personal items. As I looked around my room one last time, a part of me hoped that she would come in and stop me. But she didn’t.

With tears in my eyes, I left a note on the kitchen table: “Mum, I’m sorry for everything. I’m leaving so you can be happy. Love, Emily.”

As I walked out the door, a sense of freedom washed over me, mixed with sadness and uncertainty about the future. But one thing was clear: it was time for both of us to find our own paths.