Dear mom.
I am not crying.
I am not stupid.
I am not worthless.
I am not dieing.
I am always sad.
Because of you.
You tell me I'm good.
The tell me I'm bad.
I'll never be good enough
For you or your opinions.
My words they mean nothing.
We need to work together.
So stop telling me I'm fat.
I'm sad.
I'm lonely
I need a friend.
I can't tell you anything.
Nothing private or personal.
You will leak all my secrets.
Then laugh in my face.
You love them much more.
And I need your help.
With all my disorders.
So how I'll I live.
Without my favorite person.
And how can't you accept.
That i will never change.
Not for you.
Not for them.
But for someone who loves me
I ask you about my disorder.
And you tell me to fuck off.
You tell me you love me.
Well, once in a while.
I'm in a fantasy world.
And I feel so sick.
So please mom.
Write back before something happens.
Something irreversible.
I love you.
But you don't love me.
-Jodie (Jazz)
