Dear mommy,

when i was a little girl you were mommy and he was daddy and i was your little angel. we ate dinner together every night. you helped me brush my teeth, then you put me to bed. and right before you'd tuck me in, you'd check for monsters under the bed and sing me a lullaby.

do you remember that mommy?

because i barely remember you.

it's been months since i've seen you, maybe years. my sense of time must have ran away, too. i'm not exactly sure where you went, but i hope it's happier then here.

sometimes i wonder if you remember when you saw the crimson red lines on my arms, or the empty bottle of jack daniel's under my bed. i think what scared you the most was the bottle of pills on the bathroom floor.

my daddy told me he heard you crying and saw you leave. he said you never stopped to say goodbye. for awhile i hoped that was because you were coming back. i hoped it was because you really were not gone and maybe you just wanted to surprise me. but you never came back mommy, you left me here alone.

i tried looking for you once, i swear i did. but around every corner there was a monster and you weren't there to scare them away.

i think they caught me mommy, the monsters caught me.

because i can't even find myself now.