MB Short Story: Drafts

Dear Button,

                Hi, sweetheart! It’s Mom. Your father said that he’d give you this letter since you haven’t

Dearest Button,

                Your father must’ve already told you that this letter was from me, and I’m so happy that you decided to read it. How are you? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked. I don’t blame you for not answering my calls. You need time to process what happened, and I want to respect your wishes. I miss

Dear Button,

                How are you holding up? Your brother says that you barely come out of your room. He’s concerned for you, as is your father. I’m worried about you too, even though I probably don’t have the right after what I did.

                I hurt you, even if it wasn’t on

Dear Button,

                Your father told a joke today, and I laughed for the first time since being admitted to this damn place. You know that I’m horrible at remembering jokes, but it was utterly terrible (like most of his jokes). Something about the Pope doing a crossword puzzle. I wasn’t even laughing at the joke so much as the nurse’s appalled expression over the fact that Justice of the Ideals was sitting in the psych ward visiting area telling crude jokes to his wife. That nurse was initially tasked with my CO, but I’m pretty sure that she didn’t peg my identity until she saw your dad today. The power of makeup is formidable indeed, as I can barely even recognize myself in the mirror without my usual war paint.

                I'm getting used to the silence. I miss you, but I’m beginning to realize how much I missed myself as well. My own thoughts, uninterrupted. I feel guilty for the sense of relief that arises from hearing myself, and just myself, for the first time in years. It wasn’t as bad when you were a child—your thoughts were new and bright, easy to distinguish from my own. I could handle it. But as you grew older and more mature, the line blurred, and your words began sounding more and more like my own. I lost myself beneath the tumult.

                It’s not your fault. Teenage years are meant to be an emotional roller coaster (hell, I’ve shown you photos of my goth phase). I should’ve been stronger, able to separate what I was feeling from what you were feeling.  Instead, I kept running away on missions.

                I don’t deserve to laugh.

                I won’t send this one. Obviously.

Dear Button,

                Your mother is a coward. People would be disappointed to find out that one of Unity’s founders is so weak, but I no longer give a fuck.

                All I care about is your wellbeing. Your brother says that you’ve been refusing to leave your room, and I am a total hypocrite if I act as if I’m not doing the same damn thing.

                I won’t send this one either.

Dear Button

                Because of me, you almost died. I won’t ask you to forgive me, because what I did was unforgivable. You need to know that I NEVER intended to            

Dear Button,

                I wish that I could take it back. I wish that I could take so much back, and that I had made so many different decisions over these past few years. I should have been honest with our family. I should have asked for help instead of pulling away from you. I know that my distance hurt you, even before what happened in the kitchen.

                Before what I did to you.

                It’s never easy for a parent to admit that they’ve failed their child, but I failed you. I hurt you. If I could change the past, I’d have done things differently and you never would’ve had to endure all the pain that I caused. I’d do anything to keep you safe, even if it means

Dear Button,

                 I can’t change the past. I can’t fix the many mistakes that I made over the years, and I can’t undo all the harm that I’ve caused. I wish that I could rewind time, but wishing won’t earn back your trust. I’d like to explain what happened if you’ll let me, but I also know that no explanation makes what I did to you forgivable. It doesn’t matter that it was by accident, I hurt my baby.

                I hurt you, when my biggest priority in life has always been to keep you safe. I don’t expect you to forgive me, because I’ll never forgive myself.

                Take as long as you need t

Dear El,

                I love you.

Always,

                Mom