Momma, come home. — November 6, 2016

Momma, come home.

Momma,

I have spent the last 12 weeks worried to death for you. But you aren’t worried about me or my brothers. You don’t care about how we are doing. This entire situation has occupied my capacity to love myself and others as fiercely as I should. There is a void, and it is starting to leak into every aspect of my life. I am still in shock.

All of the years I had with you, I know I could’ve been better to you. And I’m sorry about that. I am sorry that I was not a good child or a good teenager. I will never forgive myself for that. But what you are doing to us right now is cutting deeper as the days pass. I never thought you would leave us like this.

My biggest fears right now are the holidays. Thanksgiving is coming up. Christmas is coming up. Do you know how fast my heart is breaking? I have never been away from you on big holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas. People should be with the ones they love the most on holidays. I guess that isn’t going to happen this year… I’d do anything to have you there. To have you in the same room, eating together–I’d do anything.

Please come home for the holidays. I don’t think I do anymore of this. I have never been in so much pain. It is really shitty because it doesn’t go away; the pain doesn’t subside. It just lingers and it suffocates my spirit.

Suicidal thoughts greet me when I wake up in the morning, and they haunt me at night when I attempt to sleep.

This fucking hurts.