Dearest Parents,

I don’t even know where to begin, because there’s so much sitting in my heart. Some of it heavy, some of it aching and all of it quietly waiting to be heard.

I miss you both.
I miss home.
I miss the feeling of safety I used to associate with your presence. Even when things were hard, I believed, deep down, that love was somewhere in the room.

But now… I feel banished. Like I was pushed out from the one place I thought would always take me in. I don’t know if it was something I did, or didn’t do, or simply who I am. But the silence, the distance, it’s louder than any words you could’ve spoken.

I’ve been trying to be strong. To hold myself up without the foundation I used to rely on. To believe I still matter, even when I feel forgotten. It hurts. It hurts in the kind of way that lingers, that wakes me up at night, that makes me question my worth.

Still, somewhere in me, there’s a small flicker of love that hasn’t gone out. A part of me that wishes you could see me. Not as a disappointment, not as someone to cast out, but just as your child. I’m not perfect, but I’ve always carried love for you. I still do.

Maybe you’ll never read this. Maybe nothing will change. But I needed to say it, for me. I needed to let these words out of the cage they’ve been in.

With love and sadness,
Me

I

Fear

                       You are mistaken for that's not truthful at all

I

Fear

                       I don't like you like you think

I

Fear

                      I instead love you right up to the moon

Harsh are these words, but what great Truth doesn’t hurt a little:
the promises of people today, will only be the hurt for you tomorrow,
the debt that people owe you, is often paid by the words of a forgotten
promise; even for all the love you hope to give out- its only by
a wishful wish, that you’ll get your fare share back,

There’s a note to take of the friends that will let down you,
those family members who will discard you, all the people who
will critic you, the love of past lovers that will break you, the words
that make you a victim, said from those who want to play bigger victims;
the good you so desperately try to do, to get so much bad in return,

To those you put all of your trust in, some can be trusted to
hurt and wound you, the sun will be your spotlight on top your fears,
the moon will cry with you in silence, the bath water will account for
all your tears, the snakes will sing you praises with a jagged smile,
life will chastise you; hope will forget you sometimes, time will question
you each day, age will starve you of youth, the living will grow intolerant
during your time of mourning, as death will forever remain patient for you…

                                                          These are but just life’s great Truths.

My Grandmère and I have long, gossipy conversations,
where we fall into our own chatty, slumber party rhythms.

She’s met or knows everyone important, and people tell her things.

They DM her or whisper secrets of lives ordered but loveless,
of careers choked by excesses and indiscretions.

She gets stealthy, leaked business reports of purported fortunes gambled and lost or of innocence wasted in bittersweet embrace - delicious, tangled narratives that expose the gaps between facades and realities that can’t be purchased.

Sometimes we pop popcorn on our private ends of the Atlantic,
watch Netflix, share secrets and laugh conspiratorially.
.
.
Songs for this:
Us by Regina Spektor
Young And Dumb by The Bird and the Bee