It's not that serious.
She didn't wish me luck?
It's not that serious.
Is she supposed to be my mom?
It's not that serious.
Keep telling myself that,
It's not that serious.
It's not like my biological mom,
Should know when I'm performing on stage.
It's not like I was nervous.
It's not like I needed support,
From a woman who pretends to be,
The perfect mother who tried so hard.
It's not that serious.
I'm not upset.
I'm fine,
Because I have to be.
If I show her I'm upset,
It causes drama.
It causes problems.
It causes imperfection.
And I'm not perfect,
But she pretends like she is.
I protect her fake face.
It's not that serious,
That my mother didn't even,
Remember that I had to sing,
To dance,
To perform in front of a hundred people.
It's not that serious, I say.
It's not a big deal, I say.
But it is.
It's proof I can't hide from others.
It's proof that she doesn't remember.
She doesn't care.
She's too busy partying with her boyfriend,
To care.
It is that serious,
because she is supposed to be my mom.
She is supposed to be there for me.
I just want to scream at her,
"Stop being fake.
Stop pretending you are trying.
Stop telling people I'm your daughter.
I'm not your daughter.
I'm not anything to you,
if you won't put in the effort,
To at least remember I'm here."