Month of L

Three

To My Parents,

This is a letter to say all the things I find hard to say.

"I love you." I'm sorry, I know I don't say this often enough. When I try to, everything inside me jumps up and chokes my vocal chords. This is the last time I apologize for my failures.

I have reason to be angry with you. There are so many ways I could see myself shouting, you shouting, us shouting against each other. You don't listen to me. And I don't want to play the middle child card but woah, sometimes that feels so true. You don't see me trying constantly. You want me to be like you, but I don't fit into that mold. I have to make my own. And you have to let me.

Now, I know there are things I do and have done that would not make you proud. I do things and have done things that don't make me proud. That's just the nature of humans. But I want you to be proud of me, all of the time. I want you to smile down at me, smile at me so warmly across from the dining table. It's impossible and this dream keeps me awake at night.

I want you to call me your little chocolate chip until our last conversation.

If that isn't at the essence of every word I say in your direction, then I may as well stop talking. I may as well stop writing this.