The only thing my mother and your mother share in common is that they are still not sure they can and should be parents.
The last time their paths crossed, your mother almost dug out my mother’s liver from her insides.
The only other thing they share is that they might be sisters. That makes both of us cousins — you and me.
The only other thing you and I share in common is our last name. Not because our fathers share the same name. We share last names because we share the same father.
Maybe we share feelings too. Like how I’d rather have your mother instead of mine and how you’d rather have mine instead of yours.
I want your mother in the way a man wants a woman. You want my mother in the way a woman wants a woman and that is where our difference begins.
You hate me now because you want the things I have.
You will hate me tomorrow because you may never have them.
