The leaves are dead
and I, uneasy.

I’m growing up. I won’t always be a little girl.

Detail:

I miss you.

I’m afraid that they don’t see my unhappiness. And if they do, they choose to ignore it. So I’ll wait until I can leave this place. I won’t be able to heal while I’m still here.

I feel I grow a little more bitter by the day. Each afternoon I come home more enraged than the last. But the rage subsides in a matter of hours, and I’m left feeling betrayed, disoriented, and hurt.

Weren’t they trying to keep me from getting hurt? Was that not their aim? Now they defeat their own intentions.

I’m starting to believe we are all selfish by nature. And they, in presenting their altruistic case, are blinded by their own egoism.

Dedicated to my parents.