Dear Dad

April 23rd

April 23rd,

            Anabella was feeling a little better but I wasn’t.  It hurt me to see Anabella that hurt.  No one in the world should be told that or should believe it.  I walked over to her house and rang the doorbell.  It was a few minutes until Anabella answered.  She came to the door in a bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her hair.  ‘Sorry, I just got out of the shower.’  She signed.  I told her it was okay. 

            We went up to her room and sat in front of the window.  The view was so beautiful; I could never get sick of looking at it.  I stared at it for a long time.  ‘Is something wrong?’  She questioned then got up and went to go get dressed.  “Yes, something’s wrong.”  I said and then paused.  She walked out of her closet in her underwear and waved her hand in a circle motioning for me to go on.  “Well,”  I said trying to search for the words, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what you told me back in February, about your dad and all.  It made me wonder, Anabella, why do we hate ourselves so much?  We spend all this time trying to do things to build our self-esteem and make ourselves feel good about who we are and what we do but yet we tear ourselves to pieces.  Why is it that we’re always our own biggest critic?  Why do we hate ourselves so much?”  She walked back out in a dress with her wet hair draping over her shoulders.  She walked over and kneeled down next to me.  ‘I think we all have two different people inside us; the person who we are and the person we want to be.  And sometimes the person who we are is so far off from the person who we want to be that we don't realize what a beautiful person we already are.’  She smiled at me.  I smiled back.  “You’re beautiful, you know that?”  She kissed my cheek and went back to getting ready.  She was okay, or at least she was going to be okay.