I Hate My Mother for Three Simple Reasons

I hate my mother because she filled my mind, body, and soul with a poison that will always remain inside me. My mother stole whatever chance at a normal life I might have had.

In that sense, my mother is a murderer and yes, I truly hate this evil person.

Throw out the mass hallucination – as induced by the 4th commandment in Xianity – that there is something special or sacred about motherhood or fatherhood.

There isn’t. Moms are mere people.

Being people, all mothers are necessarily imperfect. And some of these bitches are fucking awful. If you hate your mother because she is an awful mother and probably a horrible person to boot, there is nothing wrong with you!

You may be breaking a Xian commandment but (good news here) there’s no such thing in real life! The commandments are made up so you are free to hate your mother without fearing divine punishment.

I hate my mother because I deserved her respect.

Not love. If she didn’t love me, fine. I shouldn’t wish for so much! But this miserable wretch of an individual should have been decent to me.

How could someone spike her baby’s milk bottle with bourbon? By the time I was done with the fucking bottle at age FOUR, you could effectively call me an alcoholic.

But that’s not the worst of it. Fine. I am ruined for alcohol and will live with the physical impairments. It was the social isolation that hurt me more. No playdates. No friends of any kind. Just me and this evil person who resented my very existence and made sure I knew all about it.

Yes, mother, you should have aborted me. How I sometimes wish you would have! But since you didn’t, rest well in knowing how much I hate you. Herein I find my sanity. And as long as I am sane, I can justify living another day.