letters whenever i was sad when i was little, i would hide in some dark corner somewhere--under the dining table or in the closet and i'd write a letter then i'd give the letter to my parents and i would go back to my dark corner and cry and when i came out again i would crawl into their arms and they would hold me and they would understand everything and i wouldnt have to explain i still find explaining humiliating it feels like a police officer is waving a flashlight in my face-- i still dont know how i hate the question 'how are you?' and i hate the question 'what's wrong?' even more and i miss letters more than i miss letters i miss simplistic problems because before i could say 'i'm sad because you didn't believe me when i said it wasn't my fault' now i don't know why exactly and now i dont want anything to make it better-- i dont want trust or intimacy or even love because it scares me any sort of obligation scares me now. i know it shouldn't be an obligation but that's what it's become with my parents. baba, 'why don't you talk to us?' i think 'okay' but i dont say it. 'even if we were the worst parents in the world and we're not, you have to love us' okay, but i don't say it. 'what did we do wrong?' nothing. 'why don't you care?' i do. 'why don't you show it?' i can't, not the way you want. i can't love you. i care about you but i can't love you. i want you to be happy but i dont want to be the one who makes you happy because that's too much to ask if that's selfish then i'm selfish i'm too tired to fake it |