Dear Lost kid,
Tonight sucked. You have hurt me repeatedly but I still try to make you at least like me. All those hurtful words that you have spewed out like word vomit, but then act like nothing happened. You always want more, but can not give me anything in return.
I wanted to punch you in the face tonight. I wanted to yell at you. I wanted to unload on you, but that doesn't make me any better than you, does it?
I started writing you this letter because I wanted to express my displeasure with you. I know I can write what I want here with a 99% chance you'll never see it. The things I want to say to you but know you'll never actually here because unless you need something from me, I don't mean shit to you.
You hate me, fine, I've accepted it, but why do you have to spread these toxic lies about me? Do you think people won't tell me? Do you think I wasn't ever your age?
I was in your position once. I knew everything. I didn't need anyone but my friends. I wanted to be an adult but I was just a child myself. You know where that fucking got me? In a 3 year abusive relationship, pregnant and homeless at 15, and dropping out of high school in my sophomore year.
But you know what the difference between you and I is? I grew the fuck up, got a job, went back to school. I graduated, even if it was almost two years late. And guess what? I graduated high school working 2 jobs, and taking care of a one year old.
Now before you think I'm having myself a pity party, understand this. The decisions I made around the same age you are is what got me into the previous mentioned situation. I take full responsibility for it. I, unlike you, didn't fuck up every last chance at high school before semester of Freshman year.
I've tried talking to you til I'm blue in the face. I've tried being your friend, but you didn't want that. I tried being an authority figure and that made you hate me even more. You've spread nasty lies about me. You've said hurtful things about me. You tried having everyone turn on me since the beginning.
So here's the end of this letter. I'm done. I'm done trying. I'm done listening. I'm done giving you things. I'm not going to continue to make myself vulnerable to your toxicity. I love you. That will never change. But I'm not giving anymore. Not until I can at least get something in return. Shit, even a sincere apology would bring me a little closer to believing you cared.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Dear Lost kid,