Dear Mama,
I don't know how to say it again without sounding tiresome. I miss you.
Dad is on a rant again with his partners. It's like he sniffs around for problems worthy of argument and tension. It's what he lives for. I don't know how he landed you, or how you put up with his endless domineering attitude. I like to hope he's hiding an insecure self, but each and every time he raises his voice, the trembling inside me makes me forget my overused excuses I've given him. I can't feel your light inside me anymore and crawl closer and closer to the edge.
He doesn't talk to me anymore. Last time we spoke, it was over the phone and apparently my "attitude" struck a nerve. I've never been cussed out so hard in my life. It's been months. We live in the same house, walk by each other every day, in complete silence. When I'm cooking dinner, he turns the lights off as he passes by, as if I'm nothing but a ghost. No recognition whatsoever. I was happy at first for the silence, better than the yelling, but it's wearing me down.
My anxiety is getting worse. I can't be home when he is anymore. When it gets really bad, I sleep in my car, easily sleeping better than I would at home. I've found a place to tuck my car away near this playground across town. Kid's laughter wakes me in the morning when the sun doesn't. I hide under my blanket as people pass by, walking their dogs and wondering to each other what I could've done to ruin my life bad enough to live out of my car.
I took a job at a coffee shop. When I'm not working, I'm at school, and when I'm not at either, I'm at the library. I know it's all a distraction and that knowledge is making me slip. I'm doing my best to ignore my situation because, I mean, come on. There are tons of kids who would kill to have my life, even with all this happening. I don't know if I'm overreacting, too sensitive, or if it's a justifiable reaction to what's going on in my life right now.
My dreams consist of running away, down the street in a house chosen randomly, hiding from someone chasing me. It's literally night after night. Psychology says that's Dad, but the horrible part is, I can feel his murderous intent. Would he actually raise a hand to me?
There has to be something more to this life. There has to be something I haven't found yet. I need passion to believe it's all worth it. And i'm not talking about finding solace in a person. I'm talking about finding true passion, a fire, something I endlessly crave for. Theres this song lyric that's been rotating in my head. "She dreams in color, she dreams of red." I don't know how to find it, or if it's even really there, but this mundane life I see myself trotting toward is not something I can survive.
I don't know what to do, but it's getting close. The day will come when I finally get out, and I'll become that girl he fleetingly wonders about. I can't live like this anymore. Give me courage to do what I need to. Give me guidance to find what it is I need to be happy.
Your daughter.
Lucy