To Anyone,

I don’t know if someone actually reads these once published. Sometimes I’m on the top of the world and ready to live my life. And then all that goes to shit because my parents or someone else mess with that feeling. Whether it’s my mother demanding personal issues or information about others. Or my father threatens to abandon one of my family members in parking lots because he’s angry. Or maybe just someone tells me I’m annoying and they don’t want to be around me anymore. 

I don’t like living sometimes. I want anything and everything a normal person has but I can’t. One day I’d like a healthy romantic relationship with literally anyone. But I just can’t do or feel anything truly romantic. It just feels weird or wrong, like I’m not supposed to be there and there’s definitely something better for the other person. You want what you can never have I suppose. 

I feel used sometimes. I’m not an older sister anymore because I’m treated like a nanny or substitute mother. I don’t remember what I’ve done for the past 7 years anymore. I don’t know what I want anymore. I wish I felt normal. I don’t want to do anything. What the hell is wrong with me. 

One day I’m going to die and I won’t be remembered because I’ve done nothing and I don’t have friends who will remember me after a few years. It’s like I’m floating in space and can’t do anything because I don’t want to. I stare at literally anyone and their lives are so lived through already, but mine I can’t remember. I want what they have, but I’ll never get it because I just can’t. 

Written by, 

Another Forgettable Face

Dad, You Died So Suddenly

Well, Dad,
I got a call eight-thirtyish this morning, and it turns out you had died last night. Your heart stopped. Of course you were 86-years-old, and on dialysis, so it shouldn't have been a surprise, and yet it was. You did warn me in the days leading up to today that you felt you would not last much longer, but then, I suppose I had numbed myself to your words. I didn't want to deal with the implications of what that meant, couldn't deal with it emotionally.

After spending a full day with that knowledge, I still find that I can only deal with your death in short little bursts. I don't think I can let it all out all at once. The mourning will have to come out in little dribs and drabs. I can't deal with anything stronger.

I feel guilty that I was not kinder to you in the past few months. It's true what people say, that you regret what you did not do, not what you did do.

I want to thank you for calling me last Friday to and that you asked me to do something, something that I could do, so that the last time we saw each other was an amicable meeting. I want to thank you for leaving me the best memento you could have left me, a dog whom you loved dearly. I love him dearly, too, and your dog (my dog now) provides me with so much comfort and helps me to dull the pain. It's as if you did not leave me, and I can continue to provide you with some service.

I am so glad I took the dog with me when I saw you Friday. Fate was very, very kind to me to have given me that memory.

Your daughter

My Reflection

Lately I have been remembering everything she did to me, it dawns on me to this day how isolated and abnormal I was.
Today I watched a new series called The Act and it made me face again how despite her actions were done in a different way, the outcome was still the same and the desire just as similar.
I am not sending this letter to talk about this, though. There is something only my closest people know: I have visions of the future.

I am not claiming to be a fortune teller by any means, no... These visions show to me as dreams.
It is widely known that dreams are the reflection of our real world, a place our worries manifest into characters and symbolism as our mind tries it's best to find a solution to our problems. For most of my life I have had these dreams that show me the way out of my issues, but it wasn't as strong and as persistent as when I was 17 years old. See... I was fed up with her abuse, I was fed up with her taking my money from the pension and not spending it on things I needed [idk... like FOOD], I was fed up with the humiliation...
One day while I was watching Vsauce DONG videos I found out about a game called Zineth, it was a skating game [which was right down my alley] made by a few grad students which won the award for the competition it was submitted to; despite the weird control scheme I was enjoying the good time it gave me.

The combination of my misery, my desire to find a way out and a video game was the Perfect Chemistry to what eventually became a cascade of dreams that screamed: GO HOME, GO LIVE YOUR LIFE!
Through these dreams I understood the disappointment she felt when I refused to be her Mssiah, I saw the beginning of my inspirations, I met my soul-mate... I went home.
Fast forwarding to now, the end of the decade... The majority of my dreams have become true, I am with the few family members that love me, I have been partners with the soul-mate of my dream for 5 years now, Daniel Kyre committed suicide [i'm sorry], Gabe the Dog passed away [when I found his name]... But the most ominous part to me, something I wasn't told until a few months ago... For some reason he had a dream, he dreamt of me... He dreamt that I would be an important piece in the game. It makes me wonder... Am I real?


-Potential Time and Space Entity

Dear Mom,

I wanna say I miss you. I miss you so bad with everything that I am, with parts that I didn't know existed inside of me before. I wanna apologise also because I didn't tell you that I love & appreciate you when you were still here. Now I regret every second not spent with you.

Every night dear mom you come to my mind and tears run down on my face, I have no control over it. Sometimes I get confused how life works... only good people leave, only good people get hurt, only good people have bad luck. What is the point?! I mean I'm sorry but how does it work exactly! 

After you passed away everything changed. Everything... my sister and I aren't the same anymore, we lost love we lost home we lost our connection. My dad... I never saw him that sad. He lost his support and happiness. I catch him most of the time crying and my soul breaks into billion of pieces. Mom you left and you took everything with you. It's so hard!

I still remember how you always used to tell me "this too shall pass" during hard times. That was your motto! You had such a big faith I was never able to understand back then... now I got it, thanks to you and all what you thought me. I survived! I am still breathing and able to smile after the biggest loss of my entire life. You! God I wish I could hug you one more time, for seconds only... or just look at you and see you looking back, or just talk to you. I'm still in need of you mom, I was never ready to lose you & will never be. I never actually expected to witness your death and earn this broken heart though, but it happened.

But you know... as much as I suffer here without you I just wish you're up there in a better place. That's all I wish. I can take the pain of your absence, I can keep going with a miserable life as long as you're somewhere better & happier. And I keep praying to God that You are.

 Rest in peace dear mom. I love you!

Dear You,

I'm sure if you were to read this, you would know I was talking about you. I would hope you would read it and it would hurt. It would stab you in the chest to think back and know you hurt someone that much.

You know, I wish you knew how it felt from my view when you walked out. How it made me feel pathetic. Like maybe, just maybe I wasn't enough to make you stay. Like there was something so much better on the other side of the fence. But then you made your second, very vital mistake. You tried to come back. You tried to weasel yourself back into that empty space you left in my chest. You tried to make it seem like nothing had ever happened. You thought it would be okay. That because you had realized you made a mistake, that all would be forgiven. I have news for you. I don't forgive that easily.

It's been almost a year now. And every time we push you away, you come back pushing harder. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you had to walk out on everything you held dear to you. That you had to walk out something you had put so much effort in to. But in finally realizing, it isn't my fault. It isn't my moms fault either.

You were supposed to be the dad. The role model. The person who was my rock. Well daddy, your a crappy rock.

Sincerely,
Me

I'm Writing Because...

...I need to feel the satisfaction of being able to press send, but not actually send.

I need to feel like someone understands what I'm going through. Like someone will read this and RELATE to me. Make me feel like I'm not totally crazy all the time.

I need someone to see through my facade. My fake face that I'm really good at. So good in fact, that no one ever knows there's something wrong with me. I'm an average girl, who lives the good life. What no one sees, or cares to see, is what's underneath my skin.

My problem? I'm worthless. Sure, maybe I'm not really. But I wake up every morning looking in the mirror thinking "great. One more day with me."

I hate myself. I hate myself for breaking up my family, for never being good enough for anyone, most definitly not me. I hate myself for being a disappointment to everyone. I'm really not even worth it.

I depend on people to hold me up. Then when they don't, or they can't I fall. And I blame. I ruin people, and I ruin myself.

I'm worthless.

Beaten.

And completely alone.

Key:

Peace!

I am writing about something I should have sat down and talked to you about a very long time ago. Although my actions say otherwise, I love you as if you were my own son. I did not think about these feelings until I talked to your brother about it and he admitted that you remember more about our time together as a functioning family then you do. I had to point out that I have known you since you were 6 months old.

When your mother and I broke up, I thought I would continue to be considered your father. It makes sense right? You were calling me "daddy" since you could talk. Since that time, while home on leave or on liberty from the Navy, we spent more time together then I did with your mother. When we had no car, I took the almost 2 hour bus ride to drop you off at school. I remember the times your mother went out to the clubs on Thursday and Friday evenings and you and I would eat a whole pint of Haagen Daz ice cream together.

When your mother told me that our relationship as father and son had to end, I was heartbroken. To be honest, I never forgave your mother for that. When she made this suggestion I protested. Of course, she shot me down. She was your mother. Before I dropped the subject, I told her that she would regret that decision. Ironically, your mother never hesitated to ask for money to help purchase an item you needed.

There were also times when your mother complained about you and I suggested having you live with me and she refused. I will also point out that a good number of things that I reveal in this letter I have never told anyone else before except my wife.

Over the years, you have stated how you were upset at my approach to our relationship. When I came to pick up your brother, you wouldn't greet me. At times, you were disrespectful to me and my family. I ignored those acts with an understanding that you did not know what you were doing. I want to point out that despite the fact that I didn't fight for you when I should, my family has considered you a son and have argued that I should have stepped up when your mother asked me to stepped down.

I have come to learn that your mother has recently kicked you out of her home after she finally got married. It broke my heart that your mother washed her hands of you. While I admit that you have been difficult, the things you have done are very, very trivial and I find them to be the rebelliousness of your youth. I know you are a good
person. At times you are misguided and like the rest of us, are emotionally wounded. Yes, you are a product of a rape but that doesn't make you less of a person.

I miss and love you and wish that I had been more aggressive in the manifestation of that love. I should have been more vocal when your mother made that decision. Yet I just did the motions and stepped off. I should have snatched you up to live with me all those years ago when you had trouble in school. When you were in trouble with the law, I should have arrived in court to support you. I should have called you and said, "come stay with me, brother."

I know at times you look at me and my family and wonder how it all might have turned out if I stepped up. At times, I do the same thing. I only ask that you find it in your heart to forgive me. Yes, I do accept blame. It's a tough pill to swallow and forgiveness is a tough thing for me as well. It does not change the fact that deep down inside, I still see you as a son.

Sincerely,

Dan Tres Omi

Dear Pa,

I almost feel guilty writing this to you. I have always played around with the idea of telling you how I feel but have changed my mind, for fear that I may be out of line. I wish I could go back into your childhood and understand why you are the person you have become – emotionally distant, a dogged hardworker and awfully abrasive. With the exception of the emotional piece, I see myself in you.

Those similarities are what drive me insane. As a child, I wanted to be near you at all costs. I wanted you to be around me and enjoy my company. I saw our physical similarities – the eyes and the nose-- and as a trivial youngster thought that was enough to make a connection. Even when we tried the whole “normal family living gig” I was struck by the similarities in our impatient attitudes and way we dismiss people – with our hands.

Or maybe, I took on those mannerisms just to be like you – craving the attention I never received. I would love when you came around – even if it only meant you threw a few 20’s at mom and called it “child support”. Yeah right. You owe that woman more money than you have ever made. You owe her your complete gratitude and appreciation for raising a child that you barely wanted with such selflessness and commitment.

The real reason for this letter is to ask why you have never said I love you. Just three simple words- not simple but hopefully honest. I mean, I cannot imagine how hard it may have been to grow up without your mother around –craving attention from your grandmother who probably had just enough energy to put food on the table and protect you from being a victim of the rampant poverty in central region of DR. Maybe your mom or your dad never told you they loved you.

I wonder if it is because your plan never included having children – seeing them as a distraction towards your rampant conquest of any Dominican woman dumb enough to fall for your crap. Maybe. I do not have a fucking clue why you would not love me. Well, maybe because I do not call you enough or seem to care about you. Or because I seem to only respond when you buy me something – the car I drive and so much more. Forgive me but it was the sole way you seemed to ever show me that you cared as I grew up– with your wallet.

I have tried to do it all to make you love me more – not becoming a statistic, going to an Ivy, not becoming a teen mom, not cursing in your presence, going to church, working in a well respected profession, and even losing weight. Yup, even that. In the back of my mind for the past years, I wondered if you did not love me but I was not thin enough. But, to date, you have not even mentioned anything about my weightloss – positive or negative.

I am rambling at this point, but my question is simple. I know that you are proud of me. I think that you have at least said that before. Well not directly to me as that has never been your style. But your friends and some of the family has mentioned it in conversation. As you get older and the everpresent reality that your tenure on Earth is coming to , as your only child – your daughter – I just need to hear you say it.

-MG

Dude,

I have this 34 year old stigma that has sorta disallowed me to accept that someone could actually like me. It's one of those things I could blame my mother for (one of the many, MANY things I could blame her for) but I figure that since I'm in my mid-thirties that I should really take responsibility for fixing it. And I really want to believe you're interested in me ... LAWD, I really want to. But the signs aren't nearly as blatant as I need them.

Blatant - you know, like you screaming at me about 2 inches from my face, "I LIKE YOU!" That's the blatant I need. And you're clearly not giving me blatant.

And the reason I want to know is because I'm crushing on you something awful. I can't even be bothered ... with myself! I'm totally stupid about it and the time we spend hanging out is such bitter-sweetness. Sweet because ... well, it's ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And bitter because ... your'e not fucking giving me blatant.

I've been advised to take it slow and enjoy the ride. That, sir - has never been me. Slow does NOT equal enjoy the ride. Slow = meplayingheadgameswithmyselfoverwhetherornotyoulikeme. And hence this letter. That you'll never see.

Never.

Because my neuroses are splattered all over this here place like I'm a windshield and it's washer fluid. Sure - it wipes off, but it's always there, on the fringes. So, you seriously can't know ...

... that I laugh uproariously on the inside at every funny thing you say - and that it takes my mustering every ounce of *whateverthehellitisIuse* not to literally ROTFL with each joke

... that I pathetically check my cell phone throughout the day JUST in case you sent me a text I missed

... that I ponder seriously how to respond when you DO text - and I often times have a few drafts before I actually hit send.

... that I seriously almost throttled that other dude that was hitting on you right there in front of me and God and EVERYBODY. Or that I seriously despise him now and there's not hope for his crossing over into the friend zone. ever.

... that I keep a mental list of the things I'd buy you if we ever WERE an item.


And you really can't know that I'm not fixated on sex - it's you. The way you carry yourself. The way you speak. It's your worldview and your sense of humor ... your dedication to a goal. The person that is you attracts me ... and it feels like I'm being sucked into a vortex.

But you best believe I'm going to continue to be easy, cool and not-crazy-like whenever we spend time together. Because, dare I say it, even if you aren't feeling me at all ... It's cool that I know you and that we get to be boys. Even if we're not (marriedlivingtogehterinahugehousewithanenormouslawnandawhitepicketfence) an item.

-me

Dear Lil Sis,

How do I even start this letter? How do I find the words to tell you, little sister, it was NOT your fault. None of it was ever your fault.

In the last few months you've been sad and spiraling into the curse that has plagued our family for years...depression, and I know you see it, too. So let's talk this out starting with our Father. Yes I know you would like to paint a rosy picture of what life would have been if he was around but that's because you were too young to remember him and his trifling ways.

No he never hit mommy or cursed at her; he tried to break her emotionally. And I'm sure in private she had her moments but then she looked at us and knew it wasn't worth it. HE wasn't worth it. Our mother chose to raise us. She wasn't abandoned as so many single moms are. She called to her ancestors, her father long passed away and she prayed for strength and they delivered her and US. Though a crucial part of our lives was without the daily presence of a father, we were 10 times luckier to have a mother that moved mountains. We were afforded opportunities that other kids never would have had.

Take a minute and look back on our lives: you were 10 years old in Hawaii, a featured dancer with your African dance troop, and spent an entire Summer in Spain. How many kids did we know that could say these things? Even with two parents.

Mommy worked hard for us, going to a dead end job so she could afford to finish her studies, even taking us to class with her sometimes. She never complained, she just did it! She never once blamed us for his behavior, she even kept his last name to stay connected to us, and she never made us feel like he was an evil person. Her exact words "Some people just aren't ready to be full time parents, but you should still love your father, he loves you".

As we got older he'd appear here and there but mainly it was a check in the mail, a birthday card, an amazing drawing of the three of us but that never filled your void, never filled mine either.

And then I turned 25 and I made a decision to get closure on my own, because clearly he wasn't going to ever provide that and honestly I wasn't interested. I've been free of him for 10yrs now. And in that 10 years I've taken the path my mother prayed for all those nights and now its your turn! You're a beautiful, smart, and talented woman and you are throwing all that out the window because you want for a father, a father that even now manages to only appear when he feels the need to. He hasn't changed, HE WON'T change. But you have to before this eats you alive.

If you don't do it for you do it for your daughter and your mother. But it's time! It's time to stop blaming yourself and lay that emotional burden at the feet of your God and walk away. I promise you it's a lot easier and painless. When we were kids you would recite John 3:16 over and over "for God so loved the world he gave his only be gotten son" well Lil Sis he gave his son so you would never feel like you had to save the world, the people of the world, YOUR FATHER included.

Now you're grown and you feel like some of the bad decisions you've made relate to him. Well, maybe they do. It's still no reason to continue making bad decisions. You're not 17 anymore. My point is that you've learned to recognize the bad so now you need to rid yourself of it and reclaim your happiness. A happiness that you're only entitled to if you participate in it.

I'm sure if you got a chance to read this letter you'd ask me why I'm writing this? Well I'm worried about you, and more importantly your daughter. She's experiencing the same thing only worse because she's an only child. Who does she have to turn to and hide behind? No one. We were lucky there were 3 of us. If she can't depend on you to be strong and selfless who will she ever be able to depend on? When her teen years roll around in a few short years, and her hormones control her every thought, she'll need to have some foundation and she won't if you're depressed.

Of course she'll have us but you and I both know there is nothing like a parent's love in the moments where you're torn. I know you want so many things for yourself, that's normal. But right now you need to focus on her and what's to come in her life.

So I beg of you, stop blaming yourself for what was never your fault and live guilt-free for the sake of you and your magnificent daughter.

I love you with all my heart!

xoxo,
Krishna D.

To My Brother From Another Mother, E:

Peace!

It took me several days to figure out what I was going to write. I always have much to say. I didn't want to write a dissertation either. I wanted to get to the point but there always has to be background. What we go through is much more complicated that one assumes even though the solutions to our problems are simple.

First, I want to say this that I write this out of love. If I didn't love you, I would not bother to write this letter. We go back, brother. Back to a time when we were bachelors still trying to figure things out. During that interval in our lives, we became brothers because of where we were from and what we loved: hip hop culture. When we went our separate ways, I hoped that we would stay in contact but somehow in the age of instant messaging, we lost contact.

It came as a surprise that almost 10 years later, we found ourselves in Ohio only 55 miles apart. I was happy to speak to you and we immediately linked up. It was obvious that our reintroduction came at a time when you needed it the most. You were going through so much. My heart broke to find you in the manner that I did. I knew that if I did nothing, you would die.

Even back in the day, I saw your fall into Christian fundamentalism. Although I was critical in my skeptic ways, you never responded. I appreciate that and yet I hated the fact that you did not respond. I know that at times I can be abrasive when it comes to matters of religion and spirituality. I wanted to challenge you to deconstruct what you were being told. I wanted you to see the delusion you were being sold. I have many peers who somehow find God in their 30's only to become apathetic zombies and shells of their former selves. When we first met, I thought you were a warrior who would never fall for the okey doke.

Fast forward almost ten years later and you have become the Christian Taliban in the Midwest. You were challenging pastors on the minutiae in the Bible without a pot to piss in. I was sorely disgusted. You were always a hard worker and the best sales person I ever met. You could sell water to a whale as easy as the average person gets up from a chair. You were living in a one bedroom shack and never went outside unless it was to go to church. You gained so much weight you were wearing sweat suits in the summer. I was saddened at your mental and physical condition.

As you recanted your the events in your life in the past ten years, I could not help but see that I had a hand in that in some way. I was not the friend you needed me to be. I should have shook you back then and pointed out how you were following charlatans and pulpit pimps who were selling you nonsense. In your fierce loyalty, you followed these demons until they used you and left you in the gutter spent and hollow. I should have been there to tell these half men and degenerates off.

It bothers me that you cling to white folks who have no love for people of color. You have told me stories of their contempt for Blacks and Latinos and how in your blind faith you continue to pray for them. It's amazing how I can tell you when and how they would betray you and it happens but you continue to treat these people as if they were your own flesh and blood.

I know you, brother. I have known you before I even created my family. Those people you congregate with don't know you. They do not have your best interests in mind. I do. I urge you to seek help. You should seek counseling. You should reach out to your family who loves you. I dread the day that I head over to your place and find you dead in the hell they created for you. I dread the day I have to drive out in the wee hours of the night, armed like some street thug, to defend you against the white man you claims you raped his daughter.

They say that you can only help those that help themselves. I will wait patiently until you see the proverbial light. I will have you know that when that time comes, I will grab my pistols and knives and slay those demons who come in the night for you and never look back. When you call us in the middle of the night to come and get you, our home will be open to you as a sanctuary. I love you like the brother I never had. You know how deep that goes.

Your brother in the struggle,

Dan Tres Omi