My Name

Dear mom,

You call me everything but my name.

Ungrateful because I asked for you to fix my phone right after you had just finsihed paying for the cracked screen of my old phone.

Agressive due to that one time I shattered the whole entire mirror wall and broke the sink.

Inconsiderate whenever I turned on the shower, not to shower but to soak in the heat through my skin.

Bone-idle for all the times that I have woken up just to go back to sleep for the whole day.

Callous because I did not like hugs and I was uncomfortable with the phrase, "I love you".

Unstable due to all the times in which I have been angry with people for no real reason.

You called me a piece of trash.

Within a few years you found out that I was crying myself to sleep while blood seeped through my sweater sleeves.

In that same year, we both found out that I was depressed and filled to the brim with anxiety.

You called me a disappointment.

Since I did not have a voice then, I  took pen and paper.

I have finally found my voice.

I am not ungrateful, aggresive, inconsiderate, bone-idle, callous, unstable, or a piece of trash.

In fact, I am far from any of those things.

I am bright, creative, determined, friendly, independent, and reliable.

But best of all, I am not a disappointment.

I am me.

Best regards,

Megan Valentine