Dear Mom,

I was happy when I was young. Stupidly happy. Of course, I was.

I had no idea what was going on, neither did my little brothers. I was a happy little girl with long, thick blonde hair and deep brown eyes, navy blue oval glasses framed around them. I had no clue that whenever you disappeared behind the bathroom door you were... destroying yourself inside that room.

I had a dad. I went with him every weekend, or whenever you didn't want me around because I was a responsibility that you couldn't handle. My dad knew all about you and your greedy, selfish, tricky ways and wanted me with him. But I was happy, and I didn't want to leave because I thought you loved me a little more than you actually did. And my dad respected my wishes, though I was too young to make good decisions, and let me stay with you. You didn't want me completely gone, no. You only wanted me when it was convenient, though.

You know who raised me when I was "living" with you? My two grandparents. My two grandparents who weren't as selfish as you but far less stable. They took me in, as well as my siblings, and tried to feed us, give us clothing, and keep us under a roof.

They weren't perfect. I still had to depend on myself most of the time. They were just as involved with toxic substances as you were; just not as sly and self-oriented. I had to protect my two little brothers, my older sister finding a way out most of the time until she felt homesick. We missed you mom, though you probably very seldom thought of us. We wanted our damn mother, but took what we could get. 

Then, I finally found my home. My aunt, my beautiful wonderful aunt who thought of me more than my own mother did. She would have given up anything for us kids as a mother should. She took me in and gave me a spot in her home. Her son, my cousin who I call my uncle, becoming almost like a brother to me. She filled in the spot you were supposed to fill in, mom. She gave me what I needed.

Until she got sick. We thought it was the flu because when she first became sick it was fall. But then the months passed and she was still sick, so she went to the doctors. Nothing. So she went to the doctors again.

I sobbed my eyes out. I locked myself in a room and cried until I couldn't breathe. My aunt, my home, my mother in a way, had cancer. Lung cancer.

She promised us she would fight hard, and she did. She fought to stay here with us for as long as she could. But mom, I knew she wasn't coming home. So the day after my birthday, we pulled the plug and let her go. I was there, but I wouldn't go inside the room. I couldn't do that. 

Then, I decided that NOBODY on this side of my family was good for me anymore. I had figured out why things were so bad. Why I was always alone. And I had enough. I took it upon myself to contact my father and tell him I was ready to go with him. My littlest brother, who had a different father, would go with his grandmother, who was a good person and had money and a large house and a place for him to be happy. He would finally attend school regularly and be taken care of properly. My older sister was with our second aunt anyways, so I didn't worry about her. My brother, who was my father's son as well, came with me to our dad's home.

We ARE happy now. You call once or twice a month to make plans that you never go through with. You tell us that our father never lets you see us. You bad mouth our family and our home. You, however, are the one insecure. So stop calling once a month. Stop lying about our father not letting you see us. Stop bad mouthing everyone and everything we love.

Stop being like this. We do not make your choices, we do not control you. But we should matter to you even though we don't. EVALUATE YOURSELF BEFORE EVALUATING THE PEOPLE THAT WERE THERE FOR US. We are your children, not your pets. You can NOT give us off. You can NOT forget us. We will always be here. And we will always remember the mother that simply was not here.