Eleven Months

Eleven months have passed by since the last time I spoke to my mother. It was eleven months ago I ran from a toxic household. It was toxic to my well being, to my spirit, to my soul. As bad as it seems when I look back, I still wish I was there. I don't want the abuse to continue, but I do miss the feeling of having a family. Its so lonely without a mother, brother, nieces, nephews. It feels like a dark hole inside yourself that can never reach the light.
I remember the first evening in a new place. It was bittersweet. I was safe but it wasn't my home. I didn't have to worry about what I would wake up to. Then again I wouldn't wake up to anything, just emptiness.
We didn't have a lot of good times.
I don't remember a time when I didn't resent her for not taking care of me like she should. For not protecting me from things a mother should.
People say "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." What if this feeling is killing me, painfully, and slowely.
I have had some dark days but this cloud won't leave. It just lingers. My only hope is to finally talk to her. Maybe then we can repair things, if not, at least closure can begin.
I know there is light at the end of the tunnel, I just hope I am strong enough to reach for it.