I’m going to keep writing these until I get one right.
I got a scholarship and a stipend. Me - at twenty-five, a two-time dropout! Thought you’d be proud to know. Thought you’d have been proud to know all sorts of things that have happend, though, and you haven’t shown the least bit of--
Dear Suby. Do you even care that I’m alive? Your daughter.
Hello, Suby. This is a message from the UNIVERSE. There are certain things that people are supposed to learn and accomplish and change about themselves in their lives before they die - just a friendly reminder about the big one you’ve left hanging.
To my Maternal Unit:
Hello from your first successful live birth... Just wanted to let you know that I’m still alive, waiting for you to give a rats ass about loving me unconditionally. Let me know one way or the other, would you, so I can quit stressing over not knowing?
Hey, what’s up. I was just thinking about that time I was in junior high and you told me I *could* be so pretty if I’d just wear makeup. Scratch that - all those times you said that. What the fuck were you thinking? You’re lucky I didn’t kill myself, you know.
Hi, Mom. I’ve done a lot of changing in these last seven or so years. I was curious about whether you’re still blaming everyone except yourself for the things that go wrong in your life, or whether you’ve actually gained the ability to accept it when you’re wrong - and maybe even admit it? Holla back.
Dear Mom, I hate you, Love me.
Mother: In these past few years, I’ve visited cities you cannot name. I’ve written books you’ve never seen. I’ve held jobs you know nothing about. I’ve had lovers whose names you’ll never know. I’ve accomplished so many things you haven’t even heard of. I’ve recently had this huge thing happen in my life, I’m so proud I can’t even tell people the news without crying, but the woman who gave birth to me is not a part of it at all. And I still don’t know if it’s because you’re too scared to apologize, because you don’t think you should apologize, or because you couldn’t possibly care less.
Mommy: Camp is scary and the other kids are mean. Please come get me and bring me home.