Today, after whining in frustration to a friend, it dawned on me that as much as I'd like to be friends with my mom, and as much as I'm envious of people close to me that are good friends with their moms, my mom isn't the kind of personality (at least with me) that I would choose to have as a friend.

This is a harsh realisation, and it's quite difficult to accept. I will have to, though, because the conflict of longing for a friendship that I wouldn't want is kind of deteriorating...
At the same time, it's kind of sad. It's like some part of me has to die... that longing part that just isn't on par with the reality of who I am and who my mom is. I guess that's what makes it so hard to accept.

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