Dear person called mom.

Dear Mom,

Ronin PDX - Faces of Portland

I have equal feelings for you, from all feelings. I do love you, but I equally dislike you. Also, you shouldn’t take the first as a true feeling shared among most, please apply operational definition to it. I love Ava and Brady, that’s it. I close the lid for all others. You may find that to be a discomfort, however please keep in mind how many times you spoke to me during my existence. How many birthdays you told me you loved me. How many times I breached the surface of your importance. Honestly, I thank you. Thank you for providing me the long list of shit not to do to my babies. I’m disgusted that my Ex stole my daughter and ran to her rich Dad and farm-hand mom. Through my death, I’ve found peace, I’ve found me. I may hate myself for what I’ve done, who I am, and many more things, but I don’t unload that on my babies. I stand like a king, tall and defiant to those who oppress my freedom and those who’ve I’ve sworn to protect. I’m Ronin, no longer (__). I’ll die for a cause, for my cause. I don’t live this life according to other’ views, levels of morality, deceptive ideations, and sinister swindles. I’m the eye of the storm, I’ve finally figured it out. I’ve recapped those times, all those occasions where I was the calmest one in the room, yet the most ready to paint the floor with blood. I walk around the party, I stand quiet while everyone screams, I run to the danger, I don’t do the away thing. I love war, I love the challenge, the fight, the pain, the chance to lead. You might see me as a person who’s always hated you, but sorry to disappoint. I loved you, I backed you when others were downing you, walking over your name, your right as our Mother. Now, I see that I was protecting a falsehood. I was protecting something I wanted, rather than the obvious painful truth. I wish I never sat on those steps, I wish I never sat in the cold damp basement looking at your old photos. I wish I wasn’t overly empathetic, I wish I wasn’t Borderline, I wish my daughter was with me all the time, I wish my life were already over. I wish for a lot, but you won’t find yourself on that list. I stopped feeling that you’re sick and it’s not your fault. I’m sick too Mommy. But I love my kids, and I need to fix myself so they can fix themselves. I’ve had a life that was one step above complete shit. Thanks.

If I won the lottery or managed to get an “extra million”, you’ll see me again. I’ll come by, I won’t say much. I will kiss your cheek, tell you I love you, give you a house to live the rest of your days in; the peace portion comes from within and I can’t buy that. That is my promise, I will take care of those I swore to protect, but I after that, we’re done. Sort of like now.

You won’t read this, I’m fairly positive. One, you don’t read. Two, you’re simple. Three, who the fuck reads my shit anyway. Someone from another country who doesn’t give a flying fuck about me or if I live or die. They just want amusement, and I’m the one wearing the joker hat.

I remember, vividly, when my ex-wife and I drove to another state to tell you that we’re having our fist child. Do you remember what you said? I’m sure you don’t, considering how well I disassociate I’m sure you’re fantastic at it. You said, “I’m moving again, to California”. That was what you said after I told you that I was having my first child, the first. You just moved back to the same side of the continent as me in over a decade. I know! I remembered you leaving me, I helped you move. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have seen you to say goodbye. You’re a fucking piece of shit. My kids won’t know that about you until they have kids of their own. But just so we’re clear… you’re dead to me…. Unfortunately, so are the rest of these fucking humans.

So, for now I’ll just ride my motorcycle into the wind and one day meet death face-to-face.

-your son. No name needed; you probably don’t remember.