Making Amends

Dear Jessica,

I have been working on my sobriety. I am in a 12 step program for real this time. I have really been leaning on my sponsor like you always told me that I should. And she thinks… I am not supposed to say her name, so I will call her Yolanda. Yolanda thinks that there are some unresolved issues between you and me. I told her that I am not good about talking about these things with you. That it always ends up in a fight. But a letter. She said that a letter would work. I could say the things that I needed to say to work toward closure and ask you for amends. In a letter I am safe. You can’t get in the way, and I won’t get upset. So here goes.

You were always the pretty one. Your face washed, hair done. You wore all those pretty clothes. Look, I didn’t have all those privileges. My face was always broken out. I cut my hair short so people wouldn’t look at me. I learned to cuss and wear punk rock clothes. And I played my music loud so I didn’t have to hear your face.

Your first boyfriend told me I could be pretty if I tried. I told him to go fuck his mother in her face. And he called me a bitch. Yes, those were the kind of people that you hung around with. You could have stopped it. But you didn’t. But you wouldn’t.

Why do you think I got into the drugs? It was you. It was all you. In and out of all those detoxes and programs and sober living facilities. You weren’t there. Yeah, whatever with your visitations.

What about your husband? You never brought him to see me. Your kids, I didn’t get to see them until they were old enough to invite people to their birthday parties. And then they wanted to spend all their time with their friends. The one day a year I know you will let me see them, and you poison them against me. And their friends, just like yours. They just see me as this horrible toothless person with smelly clothes and slurred speech. I don’t know why I even bother with you except that I need you to love me. You horrible fucking cunt. I hope you die in a fiery crash, and the doctors keep you alive just long enough for me to get to the hospital and shit on your face.

Your loving sister,

Judy

P.S.

I hear you have been coming down with a cold. I hope you get well soon.

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