She didn’t love me as much. Oh now, don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t a secret. Hell, she’d even tell me occasionally, if she got drunk enough. But most days it just showed in her overall attitude towards me…little nuances that just let me know that he was always a higher priority. That I was the product of the man she loved least. The thing is…I didn’t resent him for it. No, I was glad he had someone in his life that loved him so, even if it meant there was a little less love available for me. In all fairness, I don’t really remember life before him, so I can’t say for sure she even loved me much then…but I like to think she did. No matter how bad she treated me or how well she treated him I never hated her either. If anything it made me love her more, seek her approval in everything I did, strive to always be better because I knew I was never enough. And now that she’s gone I can look clearly over the past and see where my efforts were futile…so why can’t I stop?