Dear Mom, I Write This Letter to You

Dear Mom,

I’m stuck. I’m stuck in a life that I don’t want. I’m stuck in a house with no way out. I’m suffocating. I have room and space, but I’m suffocating. I’m drained. I don’t sleep and I don’t move, but my mind and body are drained. Why? Why do I feel this way? I don’t know. Like you’ve always told me, I’m fed, I’m clothed, and I have a roof over my head. Why is that not enough? When you were a kid, you did anything for your mom. You got up at dawn and cleaned the house. You made sure the carpet had vacuum lines, and that there was never a single dirty dish in the sink. You never asked her for anything and you always made sure she was comfortable and happy. When you went to school, you walked. Even in hail and rain, you walked. You would never have asked her for a ride or money. You came home from school and cleaned the house again. Then you would go outside and play with your friends until she called that dinner was ready. You never complained about the food and always went to bed on time. If it was so easy for you, then why don’t I do that? Why, you ask, am I so selfish to want more? I don’t have an answer for you. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know anything, to be honest. I love you, Mom. I love you more than anything, but I don’t like you. I can’t stand being around you and it kills me. It kills me that I feel this way. Because I do love you, I want you to be happy. Sometimes I like to be around you. We’ve had good conversations about the things we love, like softball. But that’s as far as our conversations go. You tell me that anxiety, depression, and eating disorders are all a sham. Some excuse for kids in my generation to get attention. I never needed those as an excuse, I just wanted your attention. That’s why I have a 4.1 Gpa. That’s why I barely date. That’s why I’ve only had one friend that I’ve ever deemed fit for you to meet. But you never noticed. You’ve never cared. Somewhere along the way, you stopped caring about me. I know you love me, I know I’m important to you, but that doesn’t mean you care about me. I couldn’t seem to make you care. So I studied until three in the morning for a simple map test. I barely slept so that I could ensure my perfect grades. I stopped caring about washing my hair and smelling good. I just focused on school. It got to the point where that was the only thing that mattered to me. I’d cry for hours on end if I didn’t grasp even the smallest of concepts. But even that wasn’t good enough. Now you tell me that I should’ve been able to graduate early, but I won’t. Why does that matter so much? After all, I am smart. I know I said I didn’t need an excuse to want attention, but this isn’t an excuse. I can’t be certain of it, because you refuse to take me to the doctor for it, but I think I have anxiety and depression. I can’t explain it. My mind never stops working. But at the same time, I can’t make it turn on. I don’t have the energy to get out of bed or to eat. I don’t like feeling dirty, but I can’t brush my teeth or put on a clean pair of pants. I can’t take out my overflowing garbage and I most definitely can’t fold the hoards of clothes all over my floor. To you, none of these things exist within my life, but to me, they consume it. You once told me that I’ve made you want to kill yourself before, that you wished you had considered putting me up for adoption. You said I make you feel like a horrible mother and that I make you feel like you can never do anything right for me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry for existing and feeling like I want more. If you must have an answer, then I’ll give you one. I want you to care. I want you to ask me how I’m doing or take the time to get to know me. But you won’t, so I write this letter that I will not send. So I’ll continue with my mess of life while trying to figure out who I am and what to do with myself. So even if this letter has grammar mistakes and seems unreadable. It’s the most emotions I’ve had in a while, after all, I did cry the entire time I wrote…

-P.S Writings,

I love you Mom