Love, Rosie

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I know you know. 

I know you know about dad’s affairs. 

I know you know about the constant string of girls dad has fucked over the past year.

But I don’t think you know that I know about them too. 

You parade around the house as if absolutely nothing is wrong, like dad isn’t somewhere drunk in a lonely bar with an arm slung around a girl with bottle blonde hair and shorts tighter than skin.

You walk around me as if walking on broken glass. As if reality would never reach me. Most would say you are just being protective, looking out for your clueless daughter.

I say bullshit.

You don’t know that Jade and I got into a fight yesterday. You don’t know that I flunked my calculus test Wednesday. You don’t know that I’m not a virgin. You don’t know that I was accepted into UCLA. You don’t know that every night I go on a drive around town so I can avoid your muffled cries that ring throughout the house.

 I am not clueless, if anything you are clueless.

You are clueless of the fact that you can’t make a bad thing work as much as you want it to. At 16, I should be the emotional wreck in this family. You should be the one trailing after me with tissues in hand, you should be the one walking around me as if walking on broken glass. But you are not.

I want to say that I feel sad for our family. That I feel like our family doesn’t deserve this emotional turmoil. But I don’t feel that way. Our family is as fucked up as it comes. I know it, Jonathan knows, even dad knows it. 

But somehow, you don’t.

You strongly believe in the idea that everything can be fixed if you pray hard enough. 

You’ll be praying for a long time then.

It’s too late for salvation for someone to swoop in and carry this family out the web of lies it was built upon. I know about how you faked being pregnant so dad would marry you. I know about all of it. To think, Jonathan’s birth was your ticket into a blissful marriage is hilarious. Your pregnancy was pure luck, almost as lucky as your pregnancy with me. Dad would have left you if it weren’t for me. He had always wanted a girl to complete the family and when you couldn’t supply him with one he resorted elsewhere. 

I know that dad’s affairs have been spanning since before I was born.

What I don’t know is why you never left him.

Why did you put yourself through that pain?

For love? Love is an illusion that fools only the weak.

Love makes you weak, it makes you wither and think sporadically. 

It kills you.

We had our good moments though. I remember dad teaching me how to ride a bike with Jonathan in the background making fun of my training wheels while you video taped the entire ordeal. I wish I could say that our good moments outweighed the bad, but that would be a lie slipping between my lips, and I won’t be you. I won’t lie.

Teaching your daughter how to ride a bike won’t make punching your son in the gut better. 

I know about the beatings.

It would be hard not to when the walls of our house are paper thin. Especially at night, especially on Christmas. 

You did nothing to help Jonathan and for that I can never look at you the same. It is a wonder that Jonathan isn’t as psychologically damaged as I am. You let your son take beatings that he never deserved, that no one deserved. You didn’t know that even if Jonathan was the one that was getting physically hurt, it was me taking the emotional hurt. It was me feeling the pain he experienced inside, knowing I couldn’t do anything because I was only 7. 

But that’s the problem isn’t it?

You just don’t know.

Love, Rosie

x x x

so I finally updated!! I think I'm going to continue this, but let it be known that I am absolute shit at updating. The next coming month is going to be hectic because of finals and all that but it shouldn't horrible. I know the writing style of this story is a bit unusual and I would explain it to you, but I don't want to give anything away. so stick with me lovelies, and we should get through! 

tell me what you think?

Always, Sam x