liz

complicated relationships with your parents are like. you cut up fruit and bring it to my room without me asking. i can't remember the last time you told me that you were proud of me. you told me i wasn't good enough for you but i'm not even good enough for myself. your hugs feel like coming home. i can't tell you anything that happens in my life. i doubt myself every day because of something you said to me when i was eight. would you like to hear about my day? please don't ask me about my day. i miss you even though you're in the next room. i wish we didn't live together. i've never loved or resented anyone as much as i've loved and resented you. are you okay? are we okay? are we ever going to be okay?

To my dad: