April showers bring May flowers, at least that’s what my grandmother used to tell me. She was a kind woman with a warm heart who loved everyone. Except me. She was never too fond of me. I was too loud and too reckless for her taste.
Ever since I was little, I was rife in her perfect life. I was a disappointment in every way, especially considering how perfect my mother was. I would always get in trouble at school and occasionally with the law. It hurt my grandmother to see the mirror image of her daughter behaving in a way she never would.
I covered myself in tattoos and piercings, yet still I was an image of the devil in her eyes, reminding her every day of my mother.
As I took my first breath, my mother took her last. My father used to tell me how my perfect, beautiful, smart mother would light up a room every time she walked through the door. “Her smile was contagious and just being in her presence would make you feel like the most loved person in the world.” He used to tell me. He used to talk about my mother a lot. He missed her.
Then he was taken away from me too. This time it wasn't my fault. He was in an accident. The car that he spent his life savings on was the same car that took his life. Kind of ironic, I thought.
After I was left orphaned. I was to young to look after myself so my grandmother took me in. More so for her than for me I often felt. I don’t blame her though; if my mother was anything like the stories I heard, I would want to cling to any part of her I had left too.
I see pictures of her and it's like looking at my reflection. I know my family is pained every time they see me, most try to be nice but I can tell it makes them sad to see a horrific vision of my beloved mother.
This is why I covered my body in ink and metal. To cover every part of me that could be seen an image of her. I bleached the hair my mother gave me and spent far too much money on dark clothing and makeup. I was intoxicated and on drugs more often than not when I got my tattoos. I am not even sure what the markings my body are but I am glad because each one brings me further and further from my gorgeous mother.
I don't want to be another painful reminder of my mother, I just wanted to be accepted by those people who are supposed to love me. Isnt that what family is? They are supposed to love you no matter what, right? Well, it turns out that they don't love you after they think you killed the most loved person in their life. Silly me to think that these people would be the people that would pick me up when I was down.
They never cared what I did. They hardly even could look at me, let alone tell me right from wrong. It's always so complicated with them. They hate me but love my mother so they try and hold on to her forever but would gladly throw away me.
I have tried officer, I have tried to make them love me. It doesn't work and I am sick of it. As I look at these dark gray walls that are not my own, I realize that I can not think of another option. This is why I am writing you this letter and that is why I had to murder myself.

Katie