“I felt like sometimes she didn’t want me born. I was like Cinderella—even though I was a dude. She blamed me for everything. Maybe it’s because I was ugly, I guess. Girls were all running from me. My brothers were better looking. When I grew older, it was all about money. Mom and I never discussed anything personal. It seemed like she always wanted something from me. One time I called her crying, because I was trying to quit marijuana, and I felt really depressed. She just told me: ‘You’re wasting all that money on weed. You could be giving it to me instead.” She used to cash my student loan checks. One time she even used my social security number to get a credit card, and I didn’t even know until I got the bill. So I detached myself from her. I stopped answering the phone. Then two years ago she called to tell me she had cancer, and she needed an operation, but I didn’t even answer the phone. I thought she was tricking me again. She left a message, it said: ‘Michael, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. I love you. And I know you love me.’ And I just ignored it. And she died. And I’m haunted by that. I’ve been trying to write about my life lately, but I can’t get past my mother. I wish I could just start my story with that phone call. With her saying that she loved me. The only other time I ever felt love from her was when I tried crack cocaine. I was a teenager, and I had been using for a couple weeks, and I went in her room to ask for baking soda. She started crying, and she looked scared, and she said: ‘Michael, why do you need baking soda?’ And I felt love at that moment. And it was so strong that I quit doing crack right then. I never used again. I didn’t go to a program or anything. That’s how strong that feeling was.” - humans of new york