I have been working on this since before finals of Spring Term. What is this, you ask? This in an airing of my frustrations type spewing letter, saying the things I never do but always think. The following things will, in no way, be remotely flattering or attractive to most parties involved, myself included. If you're easily pussy hurt or don't like listening to anyone's truth but your own I would suggest not reading any further. Yes, I'm talking about you.
To the Mother: I love you, because I have to. You gave me life and for that sometimes I am grateful. However, I am getting really sick of going the same rounds with the same shit over and over and over. I am tired of being make to feel "less than" simply because I don't like your drunk sister, because I expect you to give me back that money you borrow. I realize that I have always been "your life", but I am tired of feeling like I am somehow beholden to you because of the choices you have made. It is NOT my fault you married my father and got pregnant/. It is NOT my fault you can't pay your bills. You failures are not my own and it's high fucking time I stopped letting you make me feel like it is.
To the Father: I hate you right now, more than I have in years. I hate that I could die tomorrow and the only reason you would know would be because Katie told you. I hate that you blind yourself to everything, including who I am and the pain you've put me through. I hate that forgiving you means letting go. I hate that even when you're not in my life you're still everywhere with me. I hate that when I look in the mirror I see you. I hate that I have to face that everyday when I put on my makeup. I am confronted with the lines that are so much like yours, even doing something as simple as brushing my teeth. I hate that my body was seemingly molded in your form and my laugh from your throat. It is because I hate you I hate myself, and I hate you more for that.
To the Eldest Sister: Where have you been? Was I really so disposable at four? We share the same blood, the same history, yet I feel no connection to you. You daughters look like me, smile my smile, laugh my laugh; all that first belonged to our father....yet, they could be strangers on the street and I wouldn't know them from Eve. I would know you no better. There is a bitterness to the moments we share, tinged with synthetic love and forced kindness. You abandoned me so now I abandon you. The childhood illusion of you is no more, and the very idea of you is tainted for me now. Is it your fault for not being perfect, or mine for believing in all the times you promised you were?.
To the One in the Middle: Who are you? No, really, who the fuck are you? While my youthful heart belonged to the Elder, I have no fond memory of you. I have no tangible proof other than the Elder to tell me we were once part of the same whole... and yet for you I might grieve most of all, for all that could have been. We share the same hurts, the same tears, the same belief we do not belong to or with the man that supposedly sired us... perhaps it is not you for whom I ach, but the idea of what wisdom you might have given me.
To the Young Blood: We have come full circle little one. You know the lines to read between, can sense the words I've not said, and hear the silent scream. You know the signs of drowning and of the ship going down, but you stay anyway. We'll cling to each other till the bitter end despite desperate times and childish pranks. There is such potential beauty in your soul, when you let of this self respect battle, you will have won the war. When you stop cheapening the body and polluting the mind, you'll be left with all your brilliance. I wish you'd let it shine. I worry for the life you're leading now, the parties and the drinking. I know it will only drag you down. I wait for you to see you the way I do. I know this battle is hard fought and long, but I'm right here waiting, just trying to help push you along.
To the Carol Ann: I have lived my whole life running to you. I have hidden in your skirt tails since I was knee high to a bugs ear. After Mikey's death you were my life line, I was just a little girl but I remember feeling like I could never reach anyone but you. Now I'm much older, and little has changed, only I see you through different eyes, less selfish eyes. It is because I am like you that I do and say the things I do. It is because I have your temper and your sense of injustice I punish everyone, including myself. I look to you now for guidance, a path for which I could follow- at least for a little while. You worry when I become silent, but the only thing I can say would make you worry more. When I distance myself, it is not because inherently I want to hurt either one of us, but rather I simply couldn't stand subjecting you to myself.
To the Drunkard: All my life, from the time I was tiny to the first night you called and made me cry, you were this model of propriety. The Good Catholic Woman whom thought I was too over the top. You sit in judgment of me now, but in all your life have I ever told you what insufferable monsters my cousins were? Did I ever run and tattle when Rocky would beat the shit out of me? Did I ever show the bruises left after a day of "play"? Do I remind you of the emotional scars you inflicted on me those nights you ignored my panicked screams, calling me a spoiled brat? It has become very clear to me that I do not love who you are, I don't even really like you right now. With this comes shame, because Family is supposed to be of the utmost importance.
To the D-Child: I believed in you. I comforted you, I created with you, and in a sense I loved you best of all. Unabashed and unashamed to show my battle scars I let you see the dark side of me, the side I hide from everyone else. You bore witness to an honest fury born of insecurity and a need to be heard- no matter the cost. I made mistakes, I relied too heavily on you, but in the end, I gave as good as I got. You were not always easy, with a brutal temperament and hateful tongue, spiteful in your trusting and often fickle with affection and affiliation. You work so hard to be new age, to be "whole", you never hear how you talk to people. There is plenty of fault to pass around, and yet I know I shoulder this burden because I am the one hurting for it now. There is something painfully wrong knowing if I were to die tomorrow, not only would you not know... you wouldn't care. I live now in fear that at any time simply being honest, simply being who I am... will somehow force every person I love from my life and that is the deepest wound of all, the root of the root, and the truth of my truth. You won't like it, it isn't very pretty, but in trying to forget it I've denied a part of myself.
To the One Who Stands Beside: You have become my safe haven, my port in the storm, the light at the end of the tunnel- which is not an oncoming train... and still... I hold back. I tell the story, I use the words, but I blur the meaning. When I feel I am teetering on the edge I pull back, when you leave me with silence, though its not your intent, I hear "I don't love you anymore", "I can't deal with you anymore". This is not your fault, or any flaw found within you... this is a fear of my own making, a prison of my deign. I never tell you what you mean, or how truly amazing you are in my eyes because the last thing in the world I want to be is needy, or clingy. True, we are only friends, but we are kindred souls on the mend, and you deserve so much more than I could ever be, even as a friend and confidant.
To My Petite Jolie: We have weathered many storms, battled many demons, and loved each other unconditionally. I see your beauty, and allow you to see my weakness. I have put as much faith in you as I ever have anyone, and though you've never let me down I hold a piece of myself from you. I bottle it, the hate and ugliness, the angst and lies I tell myself every single day, until the moment it spills over and I have no other option but to burst forth in a sea of screaming tears.... and yet there you stand. Even when I am sure you're going to give up and walk out on me because I will never be "better", never really "heal", you stand there with open arms and tell me you will never give up on me. I wish I could be more for you, I wish I could be the sort of friend you really deserve, I wish I could be as good for you as you are for me. I wish... a lot of things... but I am also forever grateful that you don't think I need to be more than I am when I am at my best. I am grateful that you love me, that you laugh with me, that you reassure me when I panic and ask you how on Earth you could love me. I am grateful that somehow you found your way to me.
To the Googlie: We have had our ups and our downs, our bitch fights and screaming matches. We have been ugly and hateful, and then turned around and been beautiful. Our relationship is a constant roller coaster, but the thing I remember more than that is that... you like me, just as I am. You love my flaws because they make me human, even when they make you crazy. I don't know what I ever did to deserve a friend like you, to be worthy of that kindness, but I will be forever grateful that you bestowed upon me the title of "friend". If it all went kaput tomorrow I know I could look back on it happily, which is quite progressive if you really think about it, since we're both so fond of calling each other names when we're mad.
I think I've gotten all the venom out for now. I think I might have just said everything I ever needed to say. If not... there's always tomorrow.
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