11/02/2018
Dear M.,
It's been a while since the last time I've written to you. I may not seem like it, but I honestly feel happy that we're talking more openly again. It's still just small talk, but it's better than nothing.
There's a lot going on in my life right now. I am finally writing a story! I'm finally doing it and I'm so excited. It's the best thing ever, but it's hard to get all of my ideas out into a storyline that makes sense. Apparently reading a lot doesn't make you a good writer.
There's also other things. More important things. My grandma's getting bad again. And I'm really worried about her. I don't want her life to leave. I know that eventually everyone has to, but that thought saddens me deeply. I just wish no good person had to die. Ever. I know she won't, not for a decade at least, but still. I don't want her to feel like she doesn't have any control in her life, because of her health.
And I didn't tell you about this summer either. It was awful. Grandma was so depressed and was always talking about her suicidal thought, which was really hard on everyone. I couldn't enjoy even a minute of the summer. The only one who brought me joy, was R. The dude from the supermarket. He was amazing and if we weren't two uncomfortable idiots we'd probably be much closer. I saw him last friday. I saw him and it broke my heart. I wish I was more brave. I wish I could say anything I'd want. People may say I have a big mouth, but in reality I don't even say 25 per cent of what I should.
At the end of the summer, my mom started getting more and more pissed off at my grandma. She would get into big arguments with everyone about her. At one point I was sitting in the car with her and my brother and she was ranting about grandma. She asked my opinion and I said that grandma should just accept help for her problems. I said it with tears streaming down my cheeks, holding myself literally together in my own arms. Looking at the way I was sitting she started going off at me, yelling at me if I was depressed as well and should get my brain checked.
That was when I realised how much I have dissapointed her in my life. How deeply she is hurt by my past. How much I have hurt her ever since I was born. I've just been one big ugly dissapointment for sixteen years. I'm never good enough. And I will never be. And that hurts. It hurts me more than anything. She just thinks of me as a selfish, lazy, antisocial, depressed idiot. I see it every time she looks at me. Every time she says something shady and thinks I won't understand. But I do. It's just that I don't dare to even speak for myself.
She makes me overthink everything I have done in my life. Every mistake I have made. Sometimes I think my father isn't the worst one of my parents. He wasn't there during my fundamental years, sure, but he doesn't make me feel worthless so much. I sometimes feel like I've never had even one full parent. My dad was always gone and my mom was treating me like a dog in training.
All I'd hear most of the time was raised voices. My mom would always yell on the weekdays and my dad mostly on fridays and in the weekend they'd yell at eachother and I'd cry for help.
A couple of weeks ago I was cleaning with my mom and I remembered something from when I was a kid and told her about it. About how we used to turn on MTV and when Amy Winehouse was on we'd mimic her iconic performances. She didn't respond. Not a word. I guess she doesn't remember. She probably only remembers the bad sides of my childhood. How I never had friends and instead had way too much anxiety. How I couldn't walk properly because of the way my bones were set. How I would get bullied and would cry everyday at school. She yelled at me too much. It's just that she can't handle imperfection. Not physically, not mentally.
I have no idea how I'd ever tell her I'm queer, because I know that everything I do or say is used against me.
But I don't want you to think my family is awful. I really don't. I love them and I know they love me as well. It's just that I sometimes have to rant too, because life is overwhelming right now.
All I want to do is get drunk and tell kind strangers all about my shit. But that's another thing I can't do so as not to dissapoint my mother.
Love,
Blackbird
