Dear Momma~
  
  I was a happy kid growing up. No doubt about it. My teachers loved the smiles and joy I brought them, every day, even when I was dead tired and crankier than anything. They loved my endless joy.
   After a while, they started seeing the black eyes and bruises all along my body. I still smiled, even when they knew that I was dying.
   I was always scared of coming home, for fear of what kind of mood you were going to be in. I always thought I was going to die that night, but somehow I didn’t.
   I couldn’t sit still in class anymore, because it was so painful to sit down.
   They started to really notice, when I cried for the first, instead of smiling, when the roll was being called.
   I never told them what was going on, because you always told me that if I told anyone, you would **** me.
   When I got assigned a project to do about child abuse, I tried to get out of it, but I couldn’t.
   I didn’t need no Prezi, I was my own Prei. I was the living proof!
    I aced that presentation and got sent to live somewhere else, but after a while, you found where I was, and beaten me, until I was coughing up blood. I coughed up blood for a month!
   I wanted to **** myself, cutting and pills became my best friend.
   I was terrified of closing my eyes. I was terrified of playing soccer. I was terrified to even stay on the soccer team!
   For a minute, I thought the worse was over.
  I was terribly wrong.
   You turned to drinking and you because more violent. I was now at the hospital every month, because of you.
    I thought ripping my ACL was painful, but what you did to me, was so much worse.
   I ended up believing that I was going to die before the age of 20, because of how violent you were.
    I hated you for so much, I can’t even begin to describe what you have done.
    I was the kid falling asleep in class and getting sent to the office every day, because I couldn’t fall asleep in my own bed.
    They saw me as a troubled kid. I was so happy, Momma! You stripped me of my joy.
   You stripped me naked and left me out to dry! You didn’t even care how I felt, as long your needs were satisfied!
   I’ve never wanted to be miserable. I never wanted to be insured. I never wanted to feel like I was never going to be with it.
   You never once told me that you loved me.
  I became afraid of the world. I didn’t want be caught off guard this much. I didn’t want to be like this, Momma, but I am!
   You never once told me that you were proud of me!
   I wasn’t suppose to grow up afraid! I was so happy and you stripped it all away.
   You made me feel guilty for all the wrong reasons and it never got easier, as I got older.
   I stopped smiling and laughing. I was still part of the crowd, but they’ve noticed just how angry I was. They all tried to help, but I didn’t want any help.
    I always tried to fight this abuse on my own, but when I woke up in the hospital, I understood that I couldn’t.
   You really broke me, then, Momma. I never thought that the Devil would be my best friend.
   I had people tell me about Christ, yet I didn’t believe He existed. I went to church, but I was so overly angry at Him, I didn’t want to believe there was such a thing as a God.
    I blamed God for what you’ve been doing to me. People loved you, but I hated you.
   As many friends as I brought home, just to work on drills for soccer, because we had the biggest backyard, you would always made sure, that you were on your best behavior. They all thought you were the greatest parent alive. They didn’t know what I had to suffer, in order for you to be happy.
    You made sure I had clean clothes, showered, and looked presentable when I went out, but I couldn’t hide the bruises that were deep and dark all over my skin, the cuts, the casts, the damage that you have done to me- I couldn’t hide it.
   I wanted someone to know the truth.
   I loved you and I forgave you over and over again, as I do today.
    All I wanted to hear you say was “I love you,” but instead I’ve gotten, “I hate you.”
   I just wanted you to be proud of me, Momma, but instead I spent seven years, being beaten to death.
   Please forgive me for not being the child you wished you had all along. I didn’t mean to make you angry.
   I don’t think I can fake it anymore. I’m broken, inside and out, this is my goodbye
  I love you, Momma. I hope you’re happy now.
  
~Jo