Senior year, cont’d
Dear Mom,
In a few months, I am about to graduate. After that, who knows? Community College. My weekend job at Disneyland? Perhaps try to move on with life? Move on from you? I’ve made a promise to myself that I would try to move on from both.
I forgive you for the things you’ve done to me and to yourself over the years. I hope one day you’ll forgive me. Forgive me for the scars on my arms you had to see. For the unpopular and ugly daughter you had to call your own. I’ve put the things you’ve done and the things I’ve done behind the walls of my heart. I will store other things, darker things, there as well because I have no use for them and no one needs to know about them. Life is too short to cry, at least for the past anyway. I’ve spent so many years crying over a past I wasn’t able to change. I don’t want to write about it anymore but it’s the best therapy I have. I think my dreams do enough damage. They are vivid, realistic and they fill me with anxiety. I will try and live off the few good memories I have. I know there will be rough days; days shrouded in darkness, blanketed with tears and loneliness, but I will rage on against the dying of the light, when those days are too much to bear.
I don’t know what will happen in the future. All I can do is keep praying and hope that God doesn’t forget me. I hope that if you do make it to my graduation you’ll be sober and at least happy. I only wanted your motherly love. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.
Exorcising Ghosts 