Mom,
I hate you for being sick!
I really love you, but I hate that you have this stupid disease!
It is sooo f***ing retarded! I hate that you can't walk with me,
I hate that you can't go swimming with me,
and I hate, hate, hate, that you won't get any better.
And as much as I hate to be so full of hate and fear and worry for you,
I still want to hurt myself so that I don't feel this way anymore, even
though I know it causes you pain and stress and makes thing just that much
worse.
All I want to do is scream at you and tell you all this, but I couldn't stand
it if you were hurt by my harsh words.
I wish you could hear me now.
Love,
Ashley
Mike,
STOP BEING SUCH A D***!
STOP HIDING BEHIND "I didn't say that." AND GO F*** YOURSELF!
WHY DON'T YOU ACT LIKE YOU DO TO ME AND CHASE IN FRONT OF MOM?
THAT WOULD JUST MAKE MY DAY!
What makes me madder about this is that you won't!
I won't ever tell you any of this unless you bring me to my breaking point.
And if I ever do, you'll slap me around a bit and then tell mom,
"She brought it on herself." or "I didn't hit her that hard." "I don't know
where those bruises came from." "She wasn't listening."
Well you know what? F*** you!
Ashley
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