𝗙𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱•𝗝. 𝗛𝗮𝗹𝗲✔︎

December

Words:

I was sitting in my room, I had just finished another song. I was listening to it. I had to make sure there wasn't another mistake.

Dear Dad,
I'm still creating music on your guitar(I got an electric guitar from Charlie this Christmas—I haven't gotten it yet, but it's a fairly obvious trait under the tree). No matter what I can't give up on it. I feel like it's the only real thing left. I don't feel much anymore, but it makes it a bit easier to plaster on a smile. I visited you guys. I didn't have much to say, I guess I've already told you everything. I made a song there though. About leaving.
The song made me realize I've left everyone, and when I have people I love, they leave. I know Charlie is going to leave me one day, and Bella will get too annoyed with my stupid rambling.
I stopped wishing. It's not like they'd ever come true. I'm doing better, though, I think. I mean I might be a little numb, and I'm still writing to you, but I think it's better.

Dear Mom,
I don't have the urge to yell at everyone that I'm not okay. I think once I realized I can pick myself up, I started doing better. I've showered everyday. I even started cleaning my room. Bella's getting better, too. She's starting to eat. She still sits alone at lunch, but she eats now. She talks a little, but she's still not doing well.
I think this journal helps me feel connected to you, even if I write to everyone. I don't have much to say. I think it might be a good thing. Because I only talk about the bad, so if I'm running out of bad things, then I must be doing better. I have to be doing better. Of course, I know I'm not great, but I'm better. It's a start. I guess I lied, when I told dad I stopped wishing, I have one more; I wish I didn't break the way I did when he left.

Dear Winnie,
Embry's starting to talk. We haven't hung out yet, but I think we'll get there. I'm not doing bad with my friends anymore. I spend tons of time with them now. I think Mike is getting a little too close, though. Especially now that him and Jessica Stanley are officially dating. She won't stop talking about it, but it's nice, something to think about I guess.
Anyway, I think I'll be okay by next month. That sounds like a long time, but it's really not. It's only a week away, and I'm getting my grades back up. I wasn't really doing homework anymore. I was just so blocked off, but since this quarter is ending soon I had to get my grades up. I'm caught up on all assignments. I think you'd be a proud sibling. If you saw me now, I really hope you do. I may not have wishes anymore, but I have hopes, I guess. It's cheesy, I know.
It rains a lot, and I think you'd like it. Charlie is sort of like you. He doesn't know how to give advice, and he's about as old as you acted. I realize why you were so mature. You were depressed, and you couldn't be yourself. I promise I understand not being yourself. In the aspect of love, but not in gender. I'm sorry that you only had three years to embrace yourself. I like teaching you how to do braids, you looked really cute in Dutch braids. It was nice to steal all your old clothes, I still were that yellow flannel you thought was so ugly.
I'm sorry you're not around anymore. I hope you've found your way back as a cat or a bird or something. I would like to come back as a bird. I hope you can fly around in the sky and see the clouds, and I hope you're a bird in France or something. You know, you liked France when you didn't know how much people littered. Maybe as a bird, you can live somewhere you'd like.
I know this is off track, and my letters are everywhere, but so are my thoughts. I can't get him out of my head, no matter how hard I try. I want you to remind me to never fall in love again.