I hoped this wouldn't be the case, but I still thought it might.
Even on the day I leave, as I'm packing, she is still insulting me. Still proving that she knows absolutely nothing about me; about my friends; about my life and the way I see things.
Still she calls me selfish, and refuses to believe that the only reason I came back here was to be near her.
I guess that's decided it for definite then. I no longer have a mother. I had hoped it would have been death that actually took her out of my life, and not her own will... but at least now I can go home to people who love me by choice, not just because they squeezed me out.
Another good thing to come of this now is that I know exactly how strong I am. Throughout it all, I have not cut; I have not snorted; and I have only drank one or two drinks of an evening - sometimes not drunk any alcohol at all. This entire situation was a major stressor and I know nobody would have blamed me if I happened to relapse - but I didn't. This means that I have a future. Perhaps I even have a destiny beyond my body being found on the floor of a bathroom of some squat - skin and bone, and puncture marks, and not much else. Maybe I really can make something of myself, but first, I have to get home.
"Home, with my thoughts escapin'
Home, where my music's playin'
Home, where my love lies waitin' silently for me".
Kitti, the Unstoppable Hex Machine
...and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries...