I stared at the doll.
She stared at me.
Oh, how i hate that doll.
She reminds me of everything i hate.
That doll, the one that won’t stop staring at me, was a present from my mother. I hated my mother. No i really hated my mother. She treated me like a baby. Always hugging me and telling me how she would always be there for me. The liar. Where is she now? She is now in the formless void that many people call heaven. This doll is all that is left of the sickening woman. I want to throw the thing across the room and hopefully take my life with it. But dad probably wouldn’t let me. How had he loved her? She was such a horrible woman. He actually cried during the funeral. For me she couldn’t have died sooner. That woman was using up our money. At least we didn’t have any other memories of her. No photos no portraits just the stupid doll.

I miss my mother.