Sincerely Luna Rose

December 31st, 2014

Dear Mother,

Another holiday, another bullshit excuse to run away again. I haven't seen you in a few weeks now and even though I should know better by now, I'm getting worried. I've been spending a lot of time out of the apartment because I'm even more terrified of Nathan now that he's actually hit me and I can hardly stand being in that apartment while he's there, especially if he's throwing one of his stupid destructive parties. I wish that you'd come home. You're not the best mother ever but you're still my mother and I love you and unlike Dad, you never abandoned your children for more than a month at a time. I don't know what it is about me and Nathan, but there has to be something wrong with us that makes our parents just... hate us or something because neither one of you ever stuck around for long.

I don't want to get into that now though. I just wanted to say Happy New Year. I doubt that you have any New Year resolutions, but I hope that maybe you could get some? Maybe find a rehab place that you like, maybe get sober. But that's probably less likely than you flying to the moon, so I won't hold my breath. Don't worry, Mom, I don't expect you to ever get sober. I don't expect you to ever act like a mother. I'm not even sure you remember that you're a mother still with how much time you've spent frying your brain to mush.

I always like to think that on the New Year, every year, that you'll realize that you've been a major disappointment to your children and that you'd try to fix what you've fucked up so terribly. I used to think that it was a plausible thing to think, but know I realize that it's just a stupid pipe dream. Who needs to be a mother when you've got heroin and cocaine and whatever else it is that you use, right? I get it, I understand.

If you care (which I'm sure that you don't but I'm going to pretend like you do), I'm at a party now and I've only got a little bit more time before somebody comes looking for me. It was supposed to be just me and then Danni's friends but because I invited Cece and Cece has a big mouth, she mentioned the party in front of all of our other friends, who have invited themselves along so they're here too, and they're mingling a lot better than I thought they would. Probably because I pleaded them to be polite tonight. I hope that the whole night goes this well but I doubt it.

Anyway, I hope that you're safe and I hope that you come home soon. Then again, I've never been very hopeful. I love you, Mom.

Included Picture: Tasha warming up to Danni and one of Bailey's friends (I'm still learning names)

Sincerely
Luna Rose

The party in the garage is full blown now, which really isn't saying much because there's about fifteen people total including all of my friends, four of Danni's friends, and then three of Bailey's guy friends. It's been fun, I think, because once Cece spilled the beans about this party, I forced everybody to both a.) not ask me any questions about how or why I know Danni and to b.) not make fun of any person or thing or conversation that is being had at this party. They have to be nice, polite, and friendly while we're with these people that share many characteristics that my friends are always making fun of.

To be fair, I'm sure that these suburban college kids make fun of bottom feeders like us too, but I want this to be a fun party.

I put my letter away in my bag that I've hidden away in Bailey's living room and rejoin all of the others in the joint garage. Walking slowly in the heels that I'm wearing, I open the garage door and fumble my way down a few stairs. Danni had told me to dress up and so I did. But my definition of 'dressing up' is a skater skirt and a t-shirt with some ripped stockings and sneakers.

Danni, however, had other plans. As my friends mingled with Danni's friends and Bailey, Danni redressed me in a tight lacy black dress. I pointed out to her that the only other person at the party that was as dressed up as this black dress was Danni herself but none of her friends were this dressy and when I told my friends to dress up, they interpreted it as the same way that I did- a skirt and a t-shirt with sneakers. She insisted that she knew that she wouldn't be able to get any of my friends to agree to dress like this, but because I'm a pushover (my words, not hers), I will wear whatever she wants to dress me in.