coffee, letters, and vintage image
The letter of a girl who has moved away from home. A letter she will never send.
Dear Mommy,

Although it has only been a few months since I have moved out, yet it feels like ages since I have last felt your warmth. I have lost count of the times I have had the relentless desire to be in your embrace and have your charisma set my soul free of doubts and ambiguities.

Why do I write such a terribly cliche letter at 3 in the morning? Let's just say it's the courtesy of an empty stomach and constant sleep deprivation that a sudden wave of realization hit upon me. And man! It hit me hard.

Mom, it's not easy getting up in the morning without my age-old alarm: the sound of you yelling violently on how I should have slept earlier the night before.

I never knew I would struggle so much while picking an outfit without your remarks on it. I would go for it anyways, but your criticism was an essential part of the process.

Speaking of criticism, it keeps me up at nights how I have made new friends without having you judge them first. Which one is a serial killer and who might be a drug dealer? I will never know.

Making my own meals, shopping for my groceries, doing my laundry, the everyday cleaning around the house, they have given me more anxiety than Game of Thrones ever did!

What kills me the most though, is coming back home and not having the assurance of having you around. It's almost as if I have lost my Sun: the warmth, the calm, the sense of security. I fail to feel complete.

Karma screwed your ungrateful, egoistic little fool of a daughter hard, Mom. I no longer hesitate to admit that you Mother, are a legend. A real Super Hero!

If life is tormenting me for the sake of my redemption, then I resentfully comply. And when I have paid my penalty, I hope I may get to have you back in my life. Only then will I be at peace. Only then will I be at Home.

Yours truly,
Your little girl.

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