I’m missing a letter. Whenever I was mad or upset, feeling completely lost or abandoned, I would take the envelope to a quiet space outside and read it. It would calm me down, after inciting a rather lengthy and robust cry. I’m talking snot with no where to wipe off expect on your varsity hoodie.
The letter was written to me by my sister. It accompanied a framed picture of us and was a sendoff gift to varsity.
I hadn’t given much thought to it in a while, until I did… And noticed it was missing. Much like my family. Much like love in my life.
It’s been a year since I left home, although thrown out is more accurate. 8 months since Ive heard from my sister and mother, 2 months since my father.
You don’t really notice until you do and realise it’s missing.
I sacrificed my family to be who I am – to feel free to act the way I want, and live the life I want. But I’m here wondering if my sacrifice was worth it, the obvious answer is no.
Clearly the goddess is showing how we cannot have it all in happiness – I had to pick between love of family and love of self.
Is this even a decision someone is supposed to make?
All I know is that I’m needing to hear my sister’s voice, but the 2am silence is deafening.