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Sep 2015
Dear Dad,

I don’t want to come home for Christmas this year.
College has been ******, and I hate it here.
Mom, doesn’t seem to care, she wants me in sports.
I just want to go to college in a school near water ports.
I miss the ocean, and the mountains.
But I don’t miss your alcoholic stains.
I’m miserable in this place, I don’t fit in, I don’t have friends.
But I won’t come home for Christmas this year, unless your drinking ends.
My whole life you’ve had the buzz, forgetting words in your head.
Do you remember all the promises you broke? That sent your little girl crying back to bed.
I’m not a little girl anymore.
Put down the schnapps, you know they make you snore.
I’m tired of being belittled, and you won’t know why I’m mad.
I’m tired of hiding in corners crying, trying to lie I’m not sad.
Dad I’m not coming home for christmas this year.
Don’t get me wrong I love you, and hold you dear.
But dad, I’m not coming home for Christmas this year.
Please, put down your beer.

-The youngest
Rough draft, raw.
Elle Moore
Written by
Elle Moore
668
   Jai Rho
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