![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Mom,
I'm writing to tell you that I have picked up on things now. I’ve become wiser. Maybe that’s why you sounded afraid when I told you I saw it in me some months back.
“I’m not interesting enough to spend time with. But I’m interesting enough to pay the tuition. I’m just a fucking checkbook.”
Yes, you are, and I want nothing to do with you beyond what you provide me financially. You seem to have forgotten the years of intimidation and harassment you’ve inflicted, or maybe you just don’t realize that I hate you. Since I was a young kid I’ve never seen you succeed at understanding me, but I'm just too kind aren't I? Too forgiving? Too good of a kid to question authority?
At 13 you threatened me out of anger for my poor grades and behavior. You made me stay silent at family gatherings. You ignored my obvious issues with anxiety and self harm because you thought I was looking for attention. At 14 you berated me and put me on medication, and then at 15 you didn’t believe me when I told you I had a dependency issue. Yet you would use the drugs as a way to control me. At 16 you told me I’d look disgusting at prom and graduation. You rolled your eyes in frustration when I came out because that was a burden to you. At 17 you refused me gender reaffirming care and threw fits about pronouns and my new name. All throughout my childhood you convinced me, whether your realize it or not, that I would never be anything more than a disappointment to you.
Now I’m 18 and you tell me I don’t appreciate you enough and that I’m selfish. You think my friends are weird and that I have too much metal hanging off my face. Well, you know what I think? I think you should look in the mirror. Every year I see the wrinkles on your face become more prominent and watch the gray hairs replace the brown. And now, when I look at your bitter, exhausted expression I feel an emotion I can only assume is hatred for the years I spent trying to tear away from you. Even if you try your best, even if your intentions are good, at this age I feel like you have failed me. I am not bound to you. You tell me you want your daughter back. Well, I’m not your perfect little girl anymore. And truth be told, I never was.
Here's to less letters in the future.
Sincerely,
Ricky
I'm writing to tell you that I have picked up on things now. I’ve become wiser. Maybe that’s why you sounded afraid when I told you I saw it in me some months back.
“I’m not interesting enough to spend time with. But I’m interesting enough to pay the tuition. I’m just a fucking checkbook.”
Yes, you are, and I want nothing to do with you beyond what you provide me financially. You seem to have forgotten the years of intimidation and harassment you’ve inflicted, or maybe you just don’t realize that I hate you. Since I was a young kid I’ve never seen you succeed at understanding me, but I'm just too kind aren't I? Too forgiving? Too good of a kid to question authority?
At 13 you threatened me out of anger for my poor grades and behavior. You made me stay silent at family gatherings. You ignored my obvious issues with anxiety and self harm because you thought I was looking for attention. At 14 you berated me and put me on medication, and then at 15 you didn’t believe me when I told you I had a dependency issue. Yet you would use the drugs as a way to control me. At 16 you told me I’d look disgusting at prom and graduation. You rolled your eyes in frustration when I came out because that was a burden to you. At 17 you refused me gender reaffirming care and threw fits about pronouns and my new name. All throughout my childhood you convinced me, whether your realize it or not, that I would never be anything more than a disappointment to you.
Now I’m 18 and you tell me I don’t appreciate you enough and that I’m selfish. You think my friends are weird and that I have too much metal hanging off my face. Well, you know what I think? I think you should look in the mirror. Every year I see the wrinkles on your face become more prominent and watch the gray hairs replace the brown. And now, when I look at your bitter, exhausted expression I feel an emotion I can only assume is hatred for the years I spent trying to tear away from you. Even if you try your best, even if your intentions are good, at this age I feel like you have failed me. I am not bound to you. You tell me you want your daughter back. Well, I’m not your perfect little girl anymore. And truth be told, I never was.
Here's to less letters in the future.
Sincerely,
Ricky