"𝚃𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚡-𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚎, 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚎." — 𝙍𝙤𝙗 𝙎𝙝𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙙
My therapist thinks that I should-"
Amber teared the paper off her notebook and tossed it on the floor along with the other three balls of paper that were there.
And then she tried again.
I hate you so much for leaving us but I have to find a way to forgive you so I am writing this letter to tell you, that-"
"This is so stupid." She muttered to herself and pushed the notebook away from her. She hugged her knees and just stared at the wall. She knew that no letter was going to help her. No words were enough to describe anything she was thinking and feeling. All those things that happened to her from the moment she and Natalie moved to Seattle. It was just continuous heartbreak for her and she had no idea how to handle anything. Especially since her mother's death.
She stood up and walked towards her bed. She remembered tossing her phone there somewhere between her second and third attempt to write the letter to her mother. It had been thee months since her mother's death. And it had been two months since she started seeing a therapist. Being alone in New York hadn't been helpful for her to keep ignoring all the emotions inside of her. All her friends and her boyfriend were too far away. Mark and her siblings were all the way to Seattle. Her grandmother and her aunt were also trying to deal with losing Natalie. And then there was her father, who she had decided that she didn't want to have any kind of relationship with.
And she was alone, in a big city, trying to deal with her grief. Trying to deal with all the thoughts she had been ignoring for the last 5 years. So she did the only thing she knew that was going to help her. Therapy.
Her therapist had advised her to try writing letters to her mother. Because according to her, Amber would be provided with the opportunity to sort through any conflicting emotions that she had about her. She could share thoughts and emotions that she'd want her mother to acknowledge, and she could express what she needed for closure.
YOU ARE READING
𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙨 ; 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙣General Fiction
·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 . . . . ╰──╮ ــہہـــــــــــــــــــــ٨ــــــــــــــــــــ❥ــ 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘊...