like mother, like daughter...

i. I was once told I was a spitting image of my mother, while most girls would crack a smile, I cracked my knuckles. You see, my mother, when she touched she did it with rough hands and stern movements. When she spoke it was loud, and almost intimidating.

ii. The way she loved wasn't shown with through affection nor words. If you looked into her eyes you’d see the blue ocean of sadness and regret. I know she isn't happy, she says it without saying it, she says it with sighs, and broken smiles.

iii. Though she has accepted the way her life turned out to be, I know deep down she doesn't want to. I know that she wanted more, she wanted more, I just don’t know what. I know they say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but I hope mine rolled down the hill and into a stream.

iv. Although I love her, she holds a presence that is hard to love, like she doesn't want any ounce of affection because she thinks she doesn't deserve it. I sometimes think she see’s a lot of her in me, like the insecurity, the shyness.. I don’t know, maybe that is why we fight so much.

v. I just can’t tell, I can’t tell if it’s because we are lunar opposites, or if it’s because we are exactly alike.