Missing Miranda

April 9

Dear Miranda,                                       April 9

    Hey. I know you will never read this, and I know that I will never be ok with that.  I will never get on with my life, and sometimes it doesn't seem possible that tomorrow will come.  "It will take time," they say to me gently, looking deeply into my eyes.  "But it will eventually feel easier."  But will it? So far, the evidence all points to NO.  But then again, what do I know? I'm just a stupid teenager who is too moody to think straight.  Even Claira won't look me in the eyes anymore.  "She will get over it," they say. "She's adjusting, just like you are." Oh yeah? Why don't you ask her friends that?  Every time they come over to our house, it's all, "Ohmigod, did you see so-and-so making out with so-and-so?" and, "Gurl, where do you shop, like ohmigod!".  Like, when did the world become so shallow?  We never talked about that stuff, but maybe that's because we weren't super popular like Claira and her Barbie friends.
    Wowwww, I'm really ranting, aren't I? Oh well, it's not like that ever bothered you.  Or did it? I wish I'd you'd spoken up once in a while, so our time together would've been perfect up to the final day.  Speaking of final day, as horrible a thought as that is, guess what Mom talked to me about today? Here's the conversation:

    Mom: "Honey, I talked to Sophie on the phone today.  She was going to bring it up at your next appointment, but she felt that it shouldn't wait."
    Me: "Great, another piece of stupid advice from a stupid therapist?"
    Mom (with raised eyebrows): "Rosabel, Sophie is very good, and she's trying to help.  Will you at least give her a chance?"
    Me: "Why should I? Cause all the others have miraculously worked?"
    Mom (after sighing): "Look, just hear me out, ok? Or wait, this won't be any better but, (taking a deep breath) Sophie thinks its a good idea if you went swimming again."
    Me (my head shooting up from the Chocolate Graham Crackers box): "What?! Mom! Is she out of her mind?! Or are both of you?! I will NEVER go swimming again!"
Mom: " Please hon," (She grabs my arm) "I know it's not fun, no I KNOW it's not fun, or in any way appealing and absolutely terrifying but I think we should trust her."
Me: "We?! What have you been doing, oh obedient one?"
Mom: "Rosabel." (She glared at me, then sighed) "I went swimming yesterday."
Me: "Where?"
Mom: "In the town pool. It was-" (She shuts her eyes, but that doesn't stop the tears from leaking out) "It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, other than-" (She stops and takes a deep breath) "But I really do think it helped me sweetie.  Please give it a shot, for me?"
She looks pleadingly at me, but I drop my gaze
Me: "Yeah, how about, no?  Besides, a pool isn't the same as a lake,"
Before she responds I stomp up to our- my room.

    Yes, I know, Miranda. I know I was rude, but what would you do in my place? Besides, they don't know I started writing to you. They don't know I've started my own form of therapy (you know, I really hate that word).  My other letters have been illegible though because of the amount of tears on them.  Oh, well, let's talk about something else, shall we? Or not talk, but-whatever.
    Ummmm, ok let's see, my friends have been great, especially Kat and Alec.  They have that assembly tomorrow, and I'm allowed to leave school early, again.  You know, I thought teachers were supposed to be smart? I thought that they might figure out that the best thing, in my very professional opinion, for me is to treat me normally? But NO.
    It doesn't really matter though.  Nothing does without you. I miss you.