Letters to those I may not see again

Dear Dad,

I know it's been a long while since we've seen each other. You're probably worried sick, thinking I'm dead or worse. Truth be told, for a while I thought I was too. Now though I'm feeling better than I ever have.

I have a confession to make. A few, actually. I've been hurting myself for years. Cuts mostly, hidden up under my arms so you wouldn't see. That feels like the most important one, honestly. I did it because I felt like no matter what I did I just wasn't good enough. You never made me feel that way; no one did. But I felt it all the same. I worked as hard as I did because I was so afraid that if I didn't then people would stop caring about me. So I hurt myself to try and punish myself for not being good enough. It made sense; we're Catholic. Self-flagellation and all that. But I know now it wasn't normal. I spent some time in a mental hospital here. Talked to some really nice therapists. They tell me I have something called Major Depressive Disorder. They talk me through my problems and give me this medicine that helps balance out the chemicals in my brain that aren't quite right. It's done wonders, Dad. I genuinely feel good.

Second thing, I guess. I like girls. Maybe you knew, I dunno. I thought I hid it pretty well back home. Always assumed it was just a phase or something. But it's not. There's this girl I met. Her name is Aria. She's a police officer, pretty fresh out of training. She's like an angel, Dad. I mean that. Got a halo and everything. And the way she laughs and the way her eyes scrunch up when she smiles real big. She's good to me. I haven't asked her out on a date yet, but I'm going to. There's just other stuff that I need to take care of first. Some bridges I need to mend and others that I need to let finish burning.

And the third thing. I know it's silly, but I need to get it off my chest. I lost grandpa's shotgun. I know you let me take it to keep me safe, and it did. But I broke it in a fall (luckily it wasn't loaded at the time). I know you loved that gun and I'm sorry that it's broken. Though I reckon you'd rather have me back home than it.

I love you so much, Dad. I miss you every single day, and I wish more than anything that I could get this letter to you. But as much as I miss you, I don't think I could go back home now. The life I'm building here is a good one, I can get the help that I need to be the person you always knew I could be. And I don't have to hide a part of myself that I am growing to enjoy identifying with. But I do love you, and I know that as strong as you are that you'll pick up and keep moving forward. And I will too, so even though we're apart we'll be moving in the same direction.


All my love,
Your Little Girl,
Jasmine

To the Enigmas,

I know this letter may come as a surprise to you, if you ever somehow read it. I don't know if you ever thought of us as close, but I saw you - all of you as my best friends in the whole world. You all hurt me bad when we got here to this world, and I need to say it out loud somewhere because I can't move forward with this weight dragging me down.

I have spent my whole life trying to live up to impossible expectations that I put on myself because that was what I thought everyone expected of me. I have always felt like a fake, a fraud, and a liar. And you all spoke those fears into reality when you decided to trash me in that group meeting. I remember every word vividly, like you carved them right into my brain.

And you're all right. I'm not Mike. Mike's dead, and I have survived everything you and this world and my own messed up head have thrown at me. I'm taking happiness for myself and I can't let you stop me anymore. I let you and everyone around me control me and put me in a position where I thought the only thing I could do to atone was hurt myself. But never again.

After everything that happened, I just stopped keeping track of any of you. It wasn't healthy and I don't know where any of you are anymore. I hope that wherever you are, you're happy and healthy and you've had a chance to reflect on yourselves and become better people.

This letter won't reach you. I'm planning on burning it at the Carpe Noctem bonfire.


Best Wishes,
Jasmine Angela Kennedy