Dear Mother

A short letter from a girl to her mother.

Dear Mommy,

       You're words can't sway me anymore. They can't comfort me like they used to, cradle me like they could. Your voice used to be able to guide me into relaxation, to reassure me. But as you grew the way you are now, you've become less and less comforting. 

       They say hate is a powerful, abused word. Only to be used when from the heart. Well, I can truly state this upcoming sentence; I hate this feeling. This unsatiable, gut feeling I have deep within me that says that they were right, they were right all along. You got in touch with the bad kind of people, you went down the wrong path, I should just give up on you and your antics.

       But how could I abandon someone so important to me? The key thing that's keeping me alive on this planet, in this house. You're the key thing that keeping me here, waiting. Waiting for the day where you take a detour before you go too far down the road you're taking, and backtrack to me again. To living with me, laughing with me, knowing my important events and topics of discussion.

       You expect so much of me. I need to be there to receive your collect calls from jail, I need to send a message to your friends when you can't, I have to find my own way home, I have to be your support. Your only support. I have to be that shoulder you lean on. But the thing is, my shoulder is tired. It's sore and bruised from you depending on me to be your solid stone. My shoulder is small, and young, and tired. And it can't hold your weight anymore. 

       You say you're a mark on the world, a blemish. That's why you tried to kill yourself, multiple times. I'm the only one keeping you here, on this planet. There is no more aunt, or grandmother, or brother, or any of your jackass friends we once depended on. It's us versus the world. We, us, together. Back to back, hand in hand, guns at the ready, determined. Ready, aim, fire. Three, two, one. Lights, camera, action.

       I hate being pitied when asked if you visited lately and my reply is "no". I hate the thoughts of abandonment towards you. I hate that our family has just given up. But that's why you rely on me, that's why I'm your shoulder. That's why I have to dig a deep, dark hole and shove my own opinions, ideas, dreams, hopes, and sometimes happiness down the drain. For you. All for you.

       I'll always continue to do it. To be your shoulder. I'll always smile and say I'm perfectly capable of handling you. I'll walk through my school doors and act like I wasn't disapppointed you didn't fulfill your promise, of picking me up or visiting me. I'll act like my depresssion hasn't grown stronger because you haven't called in over a month. And when you do, when you finally do, its because you're in jail. And you want us, or your friends, to bail you out or to pick up something. 

       I've been really into acting lately anyway, I guess you're helping me with that. Whenever you end the call I lay in my bed and sob, because you were crying about how everything is s**t for you. I cry because I can't help you like I used to. I can just be a shoulder. A lonely, weak shoulder. That has finally crumbled from the weight. So when I get up in the morning, my eyes red and swollen, I clean up and act as if nothing is wrong. Oh no, guys. I'm not upset. I just haven't gotten enough sleep. You know, my friends now think I'm becoming an insomniac. I'm starting to become one too, I suppose.

I love you, more than anything. This is why, I have to put you first. This is why I have already put you first. But please mom, do me one favor. Lend me your shoulder every now and then, while I massage mine.

       Sincerely,

       Your awaiting daughter

Author's Note

I wrote this awhile ago, so I thought this would be a great start to my account. I hope you can excuse any mistakes and be able to give me constructive criticism.