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Description
Hi, mom, it's me, your child
You didn't give birth to me but I'm still yours
And you're still my mom
But you stress me out
A lot
Like, most of my stress? You.
Don't get me wrong, mom
I love you.
I love you more than anyone else
Okay, except maybe Dad
Because I love you both the same
And stuff
But yeah

You stress me out a lot
There's always a crisis
You always have work for me
When I cry, a lot of it is just because
I'm stressed.
I want a job, I need a job
But no one wants to hire me
Because I go to school in Maine

Mom, I am twenty
You can't always control me
I've always been the willful child
I've always been the rebel
the devil child
I'm not docile or dependent
And you react badly to that, mom
Even though all I want is approval

Mom, I feel like I have to keep secrets from you
Because I'm afraid you won't like me anymore
I know you'll love me no matter what
But you won't like me
I'm scared you'll judge me, mom
I'm afraid you'll want me to leave

Mom, you're supposed to want to hug me
But you push me away
When I come to you with open arms,
it's because I need you
That love that only comes from Mom

Yes, mom, I have an awesome dad
a dad who always accepts my hugs
But sometimes I just need my mommy

Mom, I got all As and Bs for three semesters
of college
I brought home one D
Why is that all I'm afraid you'll see?

You always say I can study more
But I do my best work, so why
do you always have something to say?

Mom, I know I'm not skinny
Mom, I know I have breasts
I don't need to be reminded of my weight
Or of my weight loss goals
Mom, I need you to tell me I'm beautiful

Mom, you told me once or twice
or a thousand times
A smart woman can do anything
But I'm scared, mom
The world is hard to women
The world rapes women, and then blames us
The world constantly wants to judge women
It calls us harpies and shrews and all sorts of awful things
Names that make me feel defensive and angry
Mom, I want to prove the stereotypes wrong
I want to change the world
So why are you always telling me it's too much to do
If I can do anything?

Mom, I don't want to sing my own praises
But I'm craving your adoration
Your attention
Your affection
Your admiration
All of those things I earned with my scholastic As
All of those things I shouldn't have to earn.

Mommy, I'm your child.
Why don't I feel like that's enough?

Description
Hi, mom, it's me, your child
You didn't give birth to me but I'm still yours
And you're still my mom
But you stress me out
A lot
Like, most of my stress? You.
Don't get me wrong, mom
I love you.
I love you more than anyone else
Okay, except maybe Dad
Because I love you both the same
And stuff
But yeah

You stress me out a lot
There's always a crisis
You always have work for me
When I cry, a lot of it is just because
I'm stressed.
I want a job, I need a job
But no one wants to hire me
Because I go to school in Maine

Mom, I am twenty
You can't always control me
I've always been the willful child
I've always been the rebel
the devil child
I'm not docile or dependent
And you react badly to that, mom
Even though all I want is approval

Mom, I feel like I have to keep secrets from you
Because I'm afraid you won't like me anymore
I know you'll love me no matter what
But you won't like me
I'm scared you'll judge me, mom
I'm afraid you'll want me to leave

Mom, you're supposed to want to hug me
But you push me away
When I come to you with open arms,
it's because I need you
That love that only comes from Mom

Yes, mom, I have an awesome dad
a dad who always accepts my hugs
But sometimes I just need my mommy

Mom, I got all As and Bs for three semesters
of college
I brought home one D
Why is that all I'm afraid you'll see?

You always say I can study more
But I do my best work, so why
do you always have something to say?

Mom, I know I'm not skinny
Mom, I know I have breasts
I don't need to be reminded of my weight
Or of my weight loss goals
Mom, I need you to tell me I'm beautiful

Mom, you told me once or twice
or a thousand times
A smart woman can do anything
But I'm scared, mom
The world is hard to women
The world rapes women, and then blames us
The world constantly wants to judge women
It calls us harpies and shrews and all sorts of awful things
Names that make me feel defensive and angry
Mom, I want to prove the stereotypes wrong
I want to change the world
So why are you always telling me it's too much to do
If I can do anything?

Mom, I don't want to sing my own praises
But I'm craving your adoration
Your attention
Your affection
Your admiration
All of those things I earned with my scholastic As
All of those things I shouldn't have to earn.

Mommy, I'm your child.
Why don't I feel like that's enough?