A letter to my Mother..
Thanks for running out on us again.
Its really quite lovely when you go through one of your spurs, where everybody hates you, and you decide to run out at - what is it, 2am? - into the street, taking nothing but yourself with you. No notes, not even your phone. Because you think that your life is just this epic tragedy, and everyone is against you. No, I’m just personally tired of walking on f****** eggshells; basing my life plan on when your next breakdown is. Please grow the h*** up. I can’t be the median in this house. I can’t even think of myself as the damaged child resulted of a broken home. Oh no, you’ve robbed me of that. I’m just there, not pitiful, I can’t complain about the horrid effects you’ve had on me throughout my childhood. I’m just gonna shut the f*** up, and wait until you’re okay again, at least temporarily, and be a normal teenager when you’re happy. I won’t forget again. Just let me know how to build somewhat of a resistance up to these events, alright? So I can stop being such a fragile emotional little girl who cries about everything.