Dear Friend,
Do you remember me? I'm sure you do. I must remain anonymous at this time until further notice, as I cannot reveal too much. I shouldn't be telling you this, but one of my therapist told me that writing down my thoughts would help me to rid it from my mind. I cannot approve or disprove that statement, not yet anyways.
You know me; you are a dear friend of mine. Otherwise, you would not be reading this obviously.
I am a girl, says myself. I am a fighter, says my adopter. I am a dreamer, says my English teacher. I am also a bitch.
Some people are pretty on the inside and tell themselves they are ugly and disgusting. Not me. I am ugly, inside and out. And that, friend, is what drove me to insanity; over the edge.
Take care,
X
Dear Friend,
You know me. I know you. I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you and I am sorry for whatever harm I may have caused, but I have an excuse.
Then again, no I don’t. I’m a screw up. If I had to blame anyone, other than myself, it would be my parents. They never loved me, those bastards.
I am a mistake. That’s what I’ve been called all my life: a mistake, broken protection. They ran away together when they found out that they would have to care for their mistake or kill it. And killing it was not an option their parents told them.
I lived in a small house with them for the first ten years of my life. They left frequently for, er, long periods of time. I don’t really understand most of what happened of when I was little. I guess that’s because I don’t really remember it.
But I do remember that I had a neighbor. She was a middle-aged woman who was so sweet and kind and just a generous, loving person that loved every single person no matter who they were and what their past was. Which is exactly what I needed: a friend. A friend who wouldn’t judge me or my family.
Her name was Ms.Carol and she lived right next door. I don’t think a day went by when I didn’t talk to her. She usually fed me because I was too young to take care of myself and my parents..well, you can probably guess.
I’ll skip all of the boring details, but one day she told me he had a nephew. She lived alone, without a family so I thought that she had no family and I was quite taken aback with this. She showed me a picture of him though, he was...cute I guess you could say. He had brown hair and vibrant blue eyes, the color of a sea that you would only see in movies. Ms.Carol told me that he was my age and that he was coming to visit soon and that I could meet him!
If you couldn’t guess, I didn’t really have any friends. I was sort of a loner, but I liked it; I liked where I stood at a social standpoint. I was me and I didn’t give a fuck what people said about me. So, I was thrilled that I would meet someone new. If he didn’t know the real me, he wouldn’t be afraid of me, right? Right.
So, this my friend, is where it gets interesting:
My parents left me. They left me for an island. A freakin’ “Caribbean Escape”. If you could hear the sarcasticness in my voice when I said that, congrats.
Take Care,
Xoxo
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