I hate my mother. I hate her for leaving me alone in the hospital. I hate her for giving me a pink bath robe for Christmas. I hate her for dating Anthony. For dating Ben. For marrying Angelo. I hate her for putting me to sleep early that night just so she could pleasure Angelo. I hate her for having a baby boy. I hate her for having a baby boy with aspergers. I hate her for leaving me to understand, support, and love him. For making me raise her child. I hate her. But, for all the reasons I hate her, I love her even more. For marrying David. For having me. For having my brother. For letting me know, that if anything, her love would be the first of many things she gives us. I hate her for being herself. I love her for being my mother.