You say that.
Your words that felt like a knife stabbing my heart.
Your words telling me to mind my own business.

It’s not about you.
You forget that I’m the first person that ever loved you.
I loved you before you were born.

It’s not about you.
I was so sleep deprived after your birth. You never wanted to sleep.
I didn’t care. I held you all the time, and you only wanted me.

It’s not about you.
I sat with you when you were homeless.
I couldn’t let you come home, but I couldn’t let you be alone.

It’s not about you.
You skipped your sister’s graduation.
I had to console her when she cried.

It’s not about you.
I was there when you scored your first goal.
I comforted you when you struck out for the first time.

It’s not about you.
At every family function you chose to skip, I had to make your excuses.
They know now, I don’t have to say a word.

It’s not about you.
I get to act tough telling you no, or you have to leave.
I break down in tears when you walk out the door.

It’s not about you.
When I call, and you don’t answer, I wonder if you are still alive.
Your eulogy is already in my head.

It’s not about you.
Maybe someday, you’ll be you again, and you can realize,

It was a lot about me.