#aneuromess

17 Poems Later (it's me in disguise)

I am sorry that I could once find sunshine in anything, and now, I am the rain cloud.

Dear Mom, I know reading this letter will be hard for you. You always had this idea of me – this cookie cutter, picture perfect, bubbly, blonde daughter of yours. But I quickly learned to disappoint you. When I chose soccer over dance, when I would rather play in the dirt with the boys than paint my nails. “Sorry I’m not the daughter you always wanted,” was a phrase I said much too often. If this didn’t foreshadow the rest of my life, Mom, than you weren’t paying attention. My resistance and passion now should not surprise you. I was always a fighter, a soldier. Always trudging along to a song that you could not hear. I pity those who let their parents pull their strings like a puppet. As a parent, you should want me to create myself and discover my own life – not mimic yours. Mom, my first sign of resistance was for you. Although I was technically raised Jewish, you are Catholic, and Dad is Jewish. I never had a choice. We were just expected to go to Hebrew school and follow a belief system I didn’t even choose. Once I spoke up about Jesus, and was heavily reprimanded. My curiosity was not allowed in that place, and neither were questions. I knew at once, I did not belong. So at the young, ripe age of 12, I decided I didn’t want to be Jewish anymore. Coming home and telling you and Dad (especially Dad) that I didn’t want to have a Bat Mitzvah anymore broke your hearts, but I know a small piece of you was happy. You were relieved that I took a step back and didn’t choose to follow Dad’s religion. I could have only asked that you appreciated my decision-making and intellectual curiosity when it didn’t affect you, too. At 14, my friend committed suicide, and I decided I was an atheist. Now this broke your heart. While my brother is an in vitro baby, and I was not supposed to be conceived, God was a huge part of your life. Faith was something you heavily relied on. When I told you that there was no God, no afterlife, when you die you rot in the ground – you cried for days on end. “How could I have raised a child who doesn’t believe?” you said to me. “You are not my child.” I am sorry that these things turned me sour, and I was forced to see the bad in the world. I am sorry that I could once find sunshine in anything, and now, I am the rain cloud. As I continued to grow up, every day was a fight. Every day I woke up and I wanted to be bold and brave and different. I dyed my hair, I wore all black, I wrote, I read, I painted, and I stopped eating meat. Oh, when I became a vegetarian – what a nightmare that was. “You’re not saving any animals,” you would preach. But Mom, it didn’t feel right in my heart. You always taught me to listen to my heart. Animals and I are equals. I am not better than them, and neither are you. Find a little space for love. Listen, Mom. It has never been about defying you for a laugh or a giggle. It has never been about defying you for pride, or to say, look! I did it! I defy you because I simply cannot defy myself. Something in my soul refuses to be quiet, and I must act upon it. I must be who I am; I cannot be who you want me to be. But I have gotten so much of who I am from your. Your passion for life, your kindness, your caring, your heart. But, Mom, and I see this in you, you mold for others. You are always being everyone’s, well, everything. You never say no. You have no limits. In your own weakness, I have learned to be strong and to stand my own ground. I love you more than you will ever know, and though you will never understand why I have 11 piercings and still need more, that’s okay. I will always carry your heart with me. Thank you for my toolbox, now let me build my house.

TRUE LIFE STORY I MET ELLY BELLE ON TUMBLR AND NOW I MET HER IN REAL LIFE

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But you loved me like the flowers grew; and died.