Writing Prompts

Dear Mother, I Apologize

Dear Mother,

I apologize. I know you wanted a simple daughter or son, and I apologize that I can't be her or him for you. Not the one you wanted.

I apologize. I apologize that I won't go to college and become a doctor. Being well set-up is more important than my interests, goals, dreams.

I apologize. I apologize that I won't marry a rich person, have two kids (an older boy and a younger girl), get a dog, live in a house with a white picket fence in a great neighborhood. Why do I insist on being so difficult?

I apologize. I apologize that I don't believe in your God. Maybe I will go to Hell like you say.

I apologize. I apologize that I would rather mix a tux and dress combination than choose. I am not comfortable with that; you won't find me forcing one side.

I apologize. I apologize that I fall for people regardless of pronouns. It's greedy. Why don't I choose one so you can either be satisfied or have a reason to kick me out?

I apologize. I apologize for being there for my aunt when she came out after almost 60 years of hiding. Of course she's the one causing rifts in our relationship, not you. Of course I won't hang out and bond with my only other LGBT+ family member anymore.

I apologize. I apologize my mental health burdens you. Depression, anxiety, autism, stress. I should just ignore them, get over them. They're just in my head. Maybe I just won't be able to wake up after my next blackout, and I won't be a nuisance anymore.

I apologize. I apologize my scars embarrass you in public. They aren't a reminder that I survived; they're a sign to others that you raised a weak child.

I apologize. I apologize for not being able to bend over and take it. I should be fine with all the homophobic and transphobic slurs I've been called. I should be fine with being branded as a "faggot" with permanent markers as I sleep.

I apologize. I apologize for being friends with so many boys you have every reason to trust but don't. They make me feel good about myself, but no, I'll hang out with the girls who talk about me every time I turn around, just to make you happy.

I apologize. I apologize that everything that comes out of my mouth needs to be put down. I should watch what I say. It must be a burden for you to have to do it so often.

I apologize. I apologize I won't be in your pictures. It's selfish of me to want to keep to myself in fear that my every flaw will be immortalized and criticized like you always do.

I apologize. I apologize I don't show enough skin. How dare I stand out among the others my age for being too conservative in how I dress.

I apologize. I apologize I then show too much skin. This is why I should always wear clothes to cover the fat on my body. I didn't think it was a problem, but it must be if you say so. You're right. Maybe I shouldn't eat so much. Maybe I should skip my next few meals.

I apologize. I apologize for my quirks. My special interests. How will I ever stay in shape if all I do is read? How will I make a living when my only hobby is writing? How will I ever get a boyfriend if I never take initiative? I don't know.

I apologize. I apologize for not reciprocating your "I love you" every night before I go to bed. You always taught me to never lie.

I apologize. I apologize, but I will not conform. I will not be perfect. I will not give in.

And lastly, Mother, I apologize for not being able to say this to your face. I know that you try. You hold back your homophobic thoughts in front of me. You want me to go to Heaven and find peace when I die. You give me both boys and girls clothes, even though you hope I never wear them. You plaster a smile on your face when I come out of my room dressed and made up as androgynous as I can. You try. At least you try.

But my apologies mean nothing. Soon, I'll be 18. I'll be gone and you won't have to admit you knew me. So I'll take the insults, the looks, the put-downs.

'Cause one day I'll be able to look back at this and know that I survived.