A Taste of Morgan. Copyright © April 2020 All Rights Reserved
My name is Morgan, Morgan Douglas and yes, I'm the same woman you heard terrible things about. I could give you a list of everything that I've done wrong. I could. Instead I'm going to tell you my side of the story called my life and maybe it will set the table straight on the fact that there is always two sides to a coin.
This is what should've happened.
A month before my departure I should've received the most fanciest white envelope addressed to me, 'Morgan', in an elegant italic font. Then I should've had the chance to wonder how the packaged letter reached it's destination- the correct destination if I may add, and then I wouldn't open it. I never would.
I wouldn't have to think deep enough about that letter, although I haven't received anything within the past three years from outside Europe so intense. I knew this because of the senders address in the corner of the package that I would have taken off prior. A love letter? An invitation or just a message?- whatever the content of this letter held would be so heavy that it couldn't have been sent electronically. But I, Morgan, would not have opened it because that's how I was. I would've left it too late. That was how it should've been, but it wasn't.
The story should've began with that letter and may have been the reason I would have left Paris to return home to New York after all these years.
But that never happened because I received the letter 5 months after my return. I wish it came years before or even after I left and said 'for good', I would've been back sooner. If you want to find out the content of that letter keep reading because this was what really happened.
**5 Months Ago**
It had really been three years since I made a decision to leave the city that brought me so much misfortune. However, three years couldn't keep me far enough. No amount of self fed thoughts could justify that 'it was for the best'. Everything got handed to me on a gold patter, so it was no surprise that I couldn't handle sticking around long enough to resolve my problems myself. It was really that simple to leave and my problems would vanish, like it never existed. Initially that was what I thought until it caught up with me because I never understood that my past can't be thrown out like an old Louis Vuitton purse. I had to live with it.
Eventually, it wasn't worth it because I would have to come back at some point. I had a choice then and I made it, now I have to live with the three years that I could've had something great, someone so important to me, someone who cared about me and maybe just maybe, in the same way I had felt. If I had just put away my pride. I carried the truth around with me in hopes it would fade with time. It never did.
I sighed. As I look back at my poor decisions in life. There's no such thing as a fresh start if nothing was ever solved. Realistically speaking, until I confronted the situation I'd never move forward. I was the one that really changed; what I wanted; my happiness. Paris was good for my career but what the soul wanted was different. It showed me the emptiness of having a career and thinking it was enough when in reality there was nothing to go home to other than more work. I wanted to love and be loved by the person that had come to lie within my heart ever since high school.
My parents were a big influence on my life and I had to live it according to their wishes, most of the time. I've done everything my parents asked and expected of me, so it shouldn't hurt to feel the love back and be able to make my own decisions now- I mean I'm old enough. My family always managed to put on an act as if everything was perfect, for the sake of the public eye that was on us since before the birth of my brother and I. My mother Mary-Lynn Jane found it convenient that we acted accordingly. In her eyes, nothing involving our family name could be scandalous. It's understandable because she worked hard to get to where she was in life.
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A Taste of Morgan
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