when i was born, i didn’t have a father and was raised by a single woman. with unreserved affection, i became aware of my mother as the opposite sex at some point. one day, when i was doing the laundry for my mother who was out at work, i found some expensive-looking underwear. recently, i’ve noticed that i’ve been coming home late, and i’m attacked by feelings of jealousy that i can’t help but cross the line between a mother and a parent who hates my mother, who can’t control her feelings that she’s desperately suppressed.
