Dear Mom

The Third Letter

Dear Mom,

It's been a while from my last letter. It's November now and it's getting very cold. Micheal and me are very close now. He walks me home occasionally. I think it's odd, he says that he will never get into a relationship but for some reason I hope that he would. I know he is just saying it to appease me. I see the way he looks at Jamie.

The snow today was so beautiful. I walked home in its thick white puffs. My hair was a soggy white and red mess by the time I reached the house. There is this series of walkways called the pathfinder, that go all the way through the town. I walk them at night sometimes, I find it relaxing. Though I think dad would kill me if he knew I did that.

Jake has stopped talking about you, I think he is starting to forget. He is so young, only 4 years old. He will be five in 11 days. It is making my head spin. Little Jake, so small, so fagile. Maybe it is better for him to forget.

Me and dad don't really talk anymore. I look so much like you that I think it hurts him to much. I can't even remember the last time he came downstairs for dinner. At least he leaves some money in the jar for groceries. It gives me something to do.

I think Micheal knows something about you. Sometimes when he starts to talk about his family he will freeze and look at me like he hurt me or something. It's a bit weird. Jamie and him are getting along really well. I introduced them in class a few months back and now it's like they are inseparable. He is starting to forget about me I think, even though I said we are close. He is my only friend.

Did you know that 75% of memories are made up? It's sad. Things you think you remember are not even possible for you to remember. I like to think that I'm not like that because that means that most of my memories of you are not real. I won't ever know.

My physical science teacher finally snapped at me. For not doing my work. I normally just sit in class and stare at the board. He told me that I either needed to start doing something or to not bother to show up. I know that the teachers don't know. I almost wish they did so that they wouldn't yell at me.

My new room is very plain. It's white, on white, on white. White walls, white floors, white ceiling. White. I absolutely hate it. My English teacher wants us to eliminate kiddy words so I will change hate to abhor. I absolutely abhor it. Dad said I could paint it but I feel like I shouldn't. I want to go home.

I walk Jake to school every single day. I still won't drive, but lately it's been so cold that I've been carrying him on my back so he can use my body heat. Dad thinks I'm crazy.

What does crazy mean? Does it mean different? Or does it mean you have mental problems? Or maybe it just depends. I don't think I have mental problems, but dad is making me see a counselor. I hat-abhor her.

All she talks about is feelings and she tries to make me talk to her. I have not said one word. I really desperately abhor her. I think that I feel like that about a lot of things. One thing I do miss is piano. I miss playing for you. I miss seeing you smile when I learned something new. I haven't played sense you left.

Love,

Rin