Dear Steven,

May 17th, 2004
I hate you. I never thought it was possible to miss someone so much, and hate them with ever bone in your body at the same time. But it is.

August 10th, 2004
Why did you leave me? Why did you leave us? Mom has been a wreck for months. She tries to hide it, but I can see right through her. We are so much alike, and I when I look at her, I see myself. I don't know what you gave me-- your smile, your eyes, your chin? I may never know.

September 15th, 2004
It's Mom's birthday today, and you weren't here. Mom was trying to be all happy, but everyone could tell she wasn't. She misses you. But I still don't. You're a jerk for leaving us, a liar for promising me the world, and a thief for stealing Mom's heart.

December 21st, 2004
Cold. It's so cold. I can see my breath. The radiator stopped working again, and I'm trying to sleep under three heavy blankets. Remember you said you would fix it last February? You probably don't. It rains all the time now, and the weather man promised snow. I hope there's a blizzard where you are, I really do.

January 5th, 2005
I feel better. It's sunny again. The sun will go away in two days, but for now, I'm glad for semi-warm afternoons and clear skies.

February 12th, 2005
It's Valentines Day, and even though I though Mom would be all gloomy, she's actually happy. She woke me up this morning super early, and gave me a big stuffed red Clifford dog. We ate breakfast at six o'clock and watched the news, and smiled and even laughed. It was nice, even in our one-bedroom apartment. It was starting to feel like home again.

April 5th, 2005
It's officially spring! The sun is out, the birds are singing, and we're going to the local market. I really want to get some fresh fruit. It's feel like it's been a year since I've seen the sun. I know I shouldn't, but I kind of feel glad you're not here. You would tell Mom she should stay home and let you take me to the market, so it would be a "father-daughter outing". You know what I just realized? Mom's so much more fun than you.

May 17th, 2005
It's been a year, and I can honestly say I don't have any regrets. Time will heal the bruises, fade the scars-- I heard that on the radio, and I agreed. I don't need a "I'm sorry", or an "I love you." I don't need anything from you. You owe me nothing. You can keep the years I wasted on loving you, and I will save all the happy memories and good times. But you made your choice when you left, and there is no turning back.

P.S.: If I even actually mail these to you, I want you to know I mean it. Every tear, every smile, every heartbreak, every word. Unlike you, I can own up to what is mine.