Notes

Niall

She didn’t regret moving on. It was okay, I guess. She deserved to be happy and have a brilliant future with smiles and joy. I didn’t deserve a future. I deserved to die of heartache and misery. I didn’t want her to suffer with me as well. Misery love company, but I didn’t follow that shit statement. Why drag someone down the mud with you? Let them be happy and make them live their own life. That was exactly what Marge did. A part of me know that she left so that she didn’t have to drag the entire family through the mud with her. But a stronger part of me believed that the reason she left after giving birth to me was because…well, I came to this shit whole of a world. It was almost like she could tell that I would be trouble. Like she could tell that I was going to fuck up her life with a smile. Speaking about Marge was not in my intentions, but opening up to Alexandra was. As manly as I tried to be, I would still cower away from the people who asked about Marge. No, I was not calling her my mother. I would have called her a mother if she was around when I needed her, but no, she chose to take the easy way and left dad and me. She told me that I didn’t have to say these, but, frankly, it was fine. “No, I’m willing to talk to you about this. I want someone to hear me out at least.” I emptied my cup and cleaned it up before putting it back inside the cabinet. I wasn’t too drunk and the coffee sobered me up. I could talk to her sober. I didn’t want her pity, though. I didn’t want her to treat me like a lost puppy that was desperate after pity. Fuck no. “It went…weirdly. Tons of fallacious arguments, she tried to make me stay to make me talk and bond with her shitty husband, who happens to be twenty damn years older than her and looks like the reincarnation of Palpatine, and all he talks about is retarded pet hamster that died a few years ago. Dude’s growing old and he probably mentally scarred and challenged.” I grumpily added. Honestly, it was a chaos. Marge trying to talk to me about my past while on the other hand her husband was giving me emotional stories about how his damn hamster took its first shit on his arm. “No, she told me that she stopped a few years ago, but I don’t know if she’ll start again. She still has those fucking needle marks on her arms.” I scoffed. Fucking junkie. I hated her so much. “I don’t want to sound like a bitch and make you think that I complain about my life all the time. I don’t want you or anyone to think of me as an ungrateful prick that doesn’t appreciate his own mother. I just don’t see her as a mother. I don’t want to call a stranger my mother. A mother is someone who is there when you did her. She doesn’t even know my favorite color, my favorite movie. She doesn’t even know my damn birthday…She didn’t even know that my father was dead before I told her about it. Just because she gave birth to me, doesn’t make her my mother.” I explained. I didn’t want people to see me as a stuck up, snobbish and bratty son who doesn’t appreciate his mother. I would appreciate her if she stayed and taught me basic things like how to bake, how to ride a bike. Dad taught me those things and I really, really, really appreciated him. That was the definition of a real parent. A person who will stay with you even though you are a handful. A person who will love you unconditionally and watch you grow up. That was why I loved him and missed him. Alexandra was lucky she had both of her parents. I would kill to be in her place and have both of my parents. I was so damn happy that she had both of them. I had none. But maybe, I had her. Maybe just one percent of her. Just maybe, I had her by my side.