I really don't know what to say to you in this letter. All I know, is that I want to tell you everything. Each, and every detail of my heart, and my mind. When I was little, I couldn't wait to go home from school to see you there. It got me through the day, thinking about giving you hugs when I got home. I've been depressed all my life. Little girls aren't supposed to know how it feels to be so sad, but I did. I was just a little girl with a passion for strange things.
I remember, when we lived on Cynthia street, there was an old house next to ours, and there was huge stalks of some sort in it's backyard. In my young age, they were taller than me, and provided me with a place to hide. I thought of it as some sort of magical forest that hid me away from the rest of the world. It was almost beautiful, watching the sun peaking over the top of the stalks as I sat quietly on the ground. I remember laughing as you called my name, pretending you had no idea where I was. I knew better; that you'd watch me out of the window in my bedroom, and see me go into my "magical forest".
My nightmares, were disgusting. Things that a six year old girl should never dream, were dreamt by me. It's almost disappointing that I am now so old. It's been twelve years since I've seen my magical forest. It's been ten since I've had any dreams. I don't dream anymore. When I close my eyes, I see blackness. Nothingness. I almost miss those dreams that I had. I'd climb into your bed with you when I had them, and I'd snuggle myself close to you. Feeling content, I'd fall back to sleep, after I told you "I love you" in a whisper that you never heard.
I don't like to think about these things. I remember being disappointed when you hadn't said it back. But I was a daft child, and never realized you were asleep the whole time. In the morning, you'd wake up and smile. "What are you doing in my bed, silly?" you'd ask, running your hand through the soft brown hair, that I'd cut myself earlier in the day before. You were so mad at me. I'd tried to explain to you that I was cutting paper, and slipped, and cut off all of my hair.
I'm older now, you see? But I am in no way, happier than I was when I was six years old. I've done more fucking up in the past four years than I did in my entire life. I dropped out of school to spite you, and now, I'm just kicking myself for being so ignorant. I suppose, I'm writing this letter to apologize to you. Though these letters never turn out to be what I had in mind, it will have to do. I can never say what I need to say to you. Part of me is afraid that I will hurt you. I couldn't do that. All I really want to say, is that I love you. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to take care of you, like you did for me when I was little. I love you, more than you'll ever know.
Don't ever let yourself think that I hate you. In no way do I hate you, I'd kill myself before I let that happen. I need you to know me. I need you to know, that those 8 years I spent in counselling, helped me in some way. I need you to know, that when you sleep... I smile to myself when I hear you speak. I can't believe that I am already 18, and I've moved away from you. A thousand miles now separates us, and I hate to think that maybe it's for the better. I hate it; that you're not here. You've always been here. And now when I hear yelling, it's not you, telling me to turn my stereo down. I love you. That's all I ever wanted to tell you. I wanted you to hear it.
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