I still love her though

Every time I have a talk with my mother it just confirms it even more. She doesn't see. She doesn't see me and that tears at me and rips me to shreds inside. It confirms my isolation, my dependence and the fact I am trapped. Trapped in this house, with her and to life. With no power, no privacy and nothing that's mine that cannot be interfered with by her.

I no longer mind what it would do to her if I killed myself, its the impact on my sisters that still matters and I wish to god it didn't. We no longer talk she and I, she breezes in, tells me what she wants and then off she goes. I just cry on the inside, curse in my brain and try and ask her about her day. Again its the outward show of things that is so crucial to her and yet so difficult for me to do. I try for her sake to make life easier but its killing me inside and makes the dips linger on. It burns me that after eleven years she can't see what is difficult for me and what is really important, that each time I have explained, she doesn't listen, if she does she doesn't remember, if she does she doesn't see beyond or the expanded motion.

Oh she is a devoted mother to a sick child, she loves me deeply and bends over backwards to help. Except she doesn't, she has become a thing that makes me more sick, something to dread, a hindrance instead of a help. All she see is the ME not me, me she cannot see, and increasingly does not like.