Dear Estella,
I can't stop crying.
My mother is screaming at me because I'm almost failing math and my dad is screaming at me because he needs someone to scream at and who better than his own daughter, right? The whiny daughter who seems to be bad at everything she does- what tragic difference would it make if you let out the lava of anger and hurt onto her earthly body? It would scorch perhaps, wisps of black smoke coming out of her rocky surface, but wasn't she charred already?
I'm just going to go through all our pictures and cry till every muscle in my body is tired enough to go to sleep.
Love,
Azura
YOU ARE READING
Dear Estella
Short StoryBecause sometimes, you can't tell her by your tongue, so you tell her by your hand.
