18 Years of God Damn Bullshit: A Memoir

Letter to My Mother

((TW// Suicidal ideation, Chronic illness, death))

February 27, 2019

Dear Mom,

I'm listening to sad songs and thinking of you. Songs about people being apart (usually with oceans between them), and songs about surreality.

I don't know if there's an ocean is between us, but there's a lot more that separates us.

I don't think I care though. I just miss you. God, I miss you like crazy.

I don't know how to function with you on my mind, and you're always on my mind, in the back somewhere.

I can never figure out why I'm sad, then you rise to the surface and I'm crying all over again.

I wish I could cry in your arms again, (it's been so long), but you're never there.

You're my person.

We shared blood and nutrients. My nose and skin are your own, and the red in my hair is the very same that streams through your scalp.

Nowadays, it is lesser. You grow sicker by the day and it's tearing me up inside.

It's as though my own hair were falling out, like it is my time that grows short.

And if you die, I will too, for surely I can live without my mother, but never without my own heart.

And I don't believe in an afterlife, but I know if there's an Earth without you, I don't want to be in it.

I was strong enough to leave you, but I don't think I'm strong enough to live without you.

I guess what I'm saying is, please don't die. Get out of that place and get better. Live your life doing what you love.

I want to know you someday.

He deserves to know you.

Your [son],

_____