Dear Mom,
It feels weird, writing to you, seeing as I have no idea who or where you are. I doubt you'll ever read this, I doubt I'll ever meet you, and my personal opinion is that this is a waste of time. My therapist recommended I write to you though, not for your benefit, I don't think, but more for mine, I'm not sure why though, I think she expects it to give me some sort of closure or something.
When I was little, I used to dream about you every night. Why you left me, and why you never came back. I used to think it was because you were some famous artist, travelling the world, inspiring people, but now I'm not so naive now. I know the probability is that you were some drugged up tramp who didn't even know she was pregnant.
Sometimes I imagine if, one day, I actually did meet you. What would you be like now? Would we get on? I wonder if you like the same things as me. And then I think about what would happen, would you visit me? Would I have to live with you? You have to understand, whatever kind of mother you mat be, you are the only one I will ever have, and, as much as I hate it, I know that somewhere in my heart, there is a tiny gap that only a mother can fill.
I don't know if you know this, but I live with my adoptive dad, he's called Larry. He's amazing, and we get on great, we love each other unconditionally and I know that no matter what decisions I make in life he will stand by me. In a way, I guess I have you to thank for this… without you I would never have met him. I wonder what my dads called, I wonder if you even know his name. Were in you in a relationship, or was it just a drunken one night fumble? I doubt I'll ever find out, but you know what, I'm fine with that. I'm happy with my life the way it
Love,
Peyton.
