"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I have so much to say and I don’t really know how to say it. I hate you a lot of days, almost most. But then some days, like tonight I don’t hate you as much. I read this book, and something really stuck with me. The narrator says when she see’s her mother, after a year apart, that it feels like there is a “canyon” in between them. I just stopped when I read that. How someone could put into words what I’ve been feeling for the past six years so perfectly I couldn’t believe. Reading this in sent me into heaving cries for you. How I could still miss you so much, when in all actuality you are still here. You aren’t dead, you aren’t miles and miles away, in fact you still live in the same town. But for some reason, you have never been further away from me. Don’t you think it’s crazy that I’m almost done with high school and you’ve never been to my school, or seen me with my friends waiting to be picked up? Do you ever think about that? Does it make you sad? Sometimes I wonder if the way you deal with leaving me and the boys is by pretending that you haven’t. But who would we be kidding if we kept pretending that? It’s not the reality, is it Mom? You know that, I know deep down inside you know the truth of all that has happened, you are so intelligent and so beautiful. And “beauty is truth” isn’t it, the two fit so well together. How could you not know? I guess reading that exchange of awkward small talk between two fictional characters made me realize how real that is for me, how that is what I have dealt with every time we’ve tried talking. And I think I’ve just realized that so much of my depression comes from my hate for you. I don’t want to hate you so much, but I can’t help it. I truly do feel bad for you, please know that. I have the biggest most empathetic heart for you always, everything bad that has happened to you really truly sucks -I’ve realized that too, sometimes all you need to hear when your hurting is that that hurt is real- but we can’t all drown in our sorrows forever. And you did. You even tried to take me with you, and when I realized that I was stronger than that, you felt like I had betrayed you. But I didn’t. I just wanted to help you. I wanted to change you. But you can never change someone who doesn’t want to change themselves.

I don’t really know why I’m being so cryptic in this letter, no one will ever really know who I am, or my real story, or any context for this letter so I just want to tell someone part of my story to let it off my chest.

YOU MOTHER ARE CRAZY AND YOU ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.

Having a legitimate excuse for pain doesn’t make it okay to live with and take it out on other’s that love you. But you did, you did when you started hiding pills, and then when you left and you started sleeping all day and taking more pills and bringing wierd men into the house at all hours of the night. You did when you left us alone for a week with strangers in the house and never came back. You did when I came to your new house and I was there for dad, but all I wanted was to talk to you, to hug you, and you just locked all your doors and sat there and wouldn’t let me in. I saw you, did you know that? I saw you, I knew you heard me screaming and yelling and crying, hell the neighbors heard me. Did you hear when the old woman next door came outside and yelled at me to leave or she was going to call the police? Here I was, big ol’ 12 year old me, trying to break through to you, to only have you shut me out. It hurt me so much. You continued to keep hurting me too, when you lied in court and tried to taint my dad’s relationship with me by making it weird that we were close, you knew it wasn’t but you played games and got good at lying to yourself. When you ran away and were so high you almost died, and they had to peel you off the side of the road and you car was totaled and your brain was totaled. When dad told me that maybe it was a good thing that you were so fucked up in the ER, maybe it meant you hit rock bottom, and then when I realized that not even that was rock bottom for you. When I talked to you in the hospital, that was the scariest moment in my entire life, I’ve never felt so broken up or ready to jump off a cliff as I did then, something broke so deep inside in that 30 minutes that I don’t think I will ever be able to fix it. When I came to you when I had my virginity ripped away, ranked so hard and so fast that I didn’t even have the time or the courage to say no, and when I felt so scared and like I had no one to turn to so I turned to you. And you hurt me even more, you tried to use what happened to me, against me and dad in court, and you went behind my back and told everyone you could that I was raped, just so you could feel like you were apart of my life. That hurt so much. Then I stopped I completely cut you off, I pretended like you had died, and I was glad of it. I’m sorry for that now, but really I’m not. I’m not sorry to you at least, I’m sorry to myself that I bottled so much inside of me and that when I figured out that the only way it could manifest itself was with my fingers down my throat. And then high school started, I was dancing more and you weren’t there at any of my shows anymore, and I didn’t want you there. I started sneaking around with this one boy, and getting into trouble. But you didn’t know, I wanted to tell you everything but you were on the other side of the canyon, and I wasn’t ready to build the bridge. I came home blackout drunk once from Boden’s and all I kept saying was how Claudia was like my mom. How she took care of me and loved me and was there for me when I needed her. My dad kept yelling, telling me I was crazy and he was taking me to hospital, I was stark naked in the shower with Kali and him shoving water down my throat for hours. I was so tired and sad and ashamed, I felt so stupid when I became coherent. It was like waking up from a bad dream and realizing that the bad dream is actually a nightmare because it’s not a dream, it’s your life. So much has happened in these past three years in high school, so much. And I’ve seen you less than all my toes and fingers in those three years, does that make you sad? It makes me so sad. Whenever I think about it, all I think about is this deep dark pang in my stomach so deep knowing can feel it and it hurts it feels like nothing I could ever explain. Like I’m raw and all my insides are black and heavy and pulling me away from happiness. I guess some people describe depression as a could that haunts over them, for me its a could that is inside of me, hiding in the pit of my stomach. I don’t want you to feel like I’m saying this to hurt you, never mind the I hate you stuff, because I do and forever will love you unconditionally. You are my mother, you shine so bright when you want to. You smile is contagious and your laugh is what I always want to remember you by. Your beautiful blue eyes! Wow, it’s like your character writes itself. But truly those blue eyes are where I felt safe growing up. All your weird lullabies, the rasta music made me happy though. I guess I just miss you before all the drugs, and I wish that we hadn’t helped each other build that canyon between us, but we have. I miss you so much, I wish we could be in each other’s lives, but I’m scared. Too much has happened, you don’t even know who I am, I’m a whole new person. I think, and I draw, and I dance, and I read, and I cry, and I listen to music that reminds me of you. But you, these whole fours years have never really been there, I’ve hurt so many people. I wanted to tell you about all of it, I was mean and I was petty and I pushed so many people away who wanted to love me because I just wanted this make believe- fairytale -Lorelai inspired mom, and every time I reached out and you weren’t there I stopped looking for your hand to grab. I don’t really know why I wrote this letter, but it felt good, I’ve been feeling lately like that cloudy pit inside of me is starting to become me and I don’t like it. I’m sick of disappointing people and hiding in that pit. It wasn’t supposed to grow so big that I could get swallowed up in it. That’s what happens when you cut yourself off though, I just wanted you to know that dad is really done with everything. He is so tired, and mad at you for not being there for us that he puts a lot of pressure for me to stop being so depressed and alone. Honestly I wish I could stop, but I want you to know that I still need you. I love you.