Dear Reader,
If you’re reading this, I’m assuming you’ve already discovered that I’m gone. Please don’t waste your energy searching for me, because by the time you finish this letter, I’ll no longer be a caged bird. I’ll be long gone, soaring high and running free in those sunny blue skies above us and all that other mushy stuff.
Do you want to know the reason why I did this? You’ll get one short and simple answer: father. Why did I just call him that instead of Dad or Daddy? Because the truth is, I don’t have a dad. I may have a father—presumably, everyone alive does—but I’ll never have a dad. A dad is someone who’s supposed to love you, who’s supposed to know when and how to apologize, who’s supposed to be self-sacrificing for his family. But I never had a figure like that in my life. The closest I ever came to having a dad were either my friends’ dads or my male teachers. But that’s not the same. How pathetic is it when you look at your teacher making jokes and suddenly wish that he was your dad? All my life, I envied those kids who had real dads, ones that knew how to love and laugh and smile. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t shed a single real tear at my death—crocodile tears don’t count because everyone would expect a father to mourn the loss of his daughter. But I’ll tell you what—you may think of yourself as my dad, but I will never be your daughter. There’s no freaking possible way that someone as shy and quiet and honest as me could ever be related to someone as brutal and insensitive and argumentative as you. I can’t even waste my pity on you, because I don’t have a single ounce of it left for someone as cruel as you. All I can hope for is that, sometime before you die, you’ll realize just how many people you’ve scarred and just how many lives you’ve ruined.
Alina, I’m so, so sorry for doing this to you. I never meant for you to lose a friend, a confidant, and your only sister. But I simply couldn’t wait another three impossibly long years before I myself could go off to college and escape the harsh reign of an inhumane father. I know, you’ll probably scold me endlessly, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to escape. But remember that I’ll always be there for you, through thick and thin, just as you were there for me. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to never forgive me, but at least listen to these last few sentences. Whatever you do, don’t stay with your father. Go on with college, graduate with honors and everything, meet a decent boy who’ll love you like father never did, and move out of the house. Move far, far away from him. Erase him from your mind, your memory, and your life. He isn’t worth it. Just abandon him to his own devices; let him have his own taste of pain. But make sure you take care of Mommy, okay? Give her the love that her sorry excuse of a husband never gave her.
As for my friends, I apologize for making you guys suffer. You were the very best friends I could have ever asked for—no matter what I was going through, you were always there for me. You shone through the clouds on gray, rainy days and did your very best to make me smile. Don’t beat yourself up over this—no matter what you think, and as cruel as it may sound, there’s nothing you could have done to stop this. It would have happened anyway, unless I could have traveled back in time and prevented my mom and father from ever crossing paths. I know that I must seem like a complete and utter failure in your eyes. So I’m letting you decide whether I should live on in your hearts or fade away from your memories.
And you preppy, popular girls who stared at me and whispered about me and judged me because I never talked? Well, just stop judging everyone and learn to accept them for who they are. Don’t judge people when you don’t know the full story behind their lives. Think about it—if you had known that there was a true reason for my introverted ways, would you have labeled me as a stupid loner? If the answer to that is no, then good—now go start changing your ways and try bringing kindness into other people’s lives. If the answer is yes, well, don’t even bother to say it or defend yourself—you’re just as bad as my father.
And finally, my dear and sweet mommy, don’t think I’ve forgotten you. The best is always saved for last, right? Let me tell you; don’t be sorry for marrying such a man. It isn’t, and never will be, your fault. You didn’t know that he would transform from a handsome charmer to a terrible, heartless automaton who would no longer be able to love anyone but himself. If anything, you should be sorry for him—sorry that he doesn’t even know how to feel pity for others. Remember that I’ll always love you, mommy. You’re the sweetest, gentlest, most considerate and compassionate mom a person could ever ask for. Please don’t cry too much over me—I knew that my death would bring you heart-wrenching pain, but I’m not worth the tears. Not when I didn’t have the strength to continue living for you. Mourn me, and then move on with your life, because I want you to be happy—a mom like you deserves it.
What do I want each and every one of you readers to learn from this letter? Why did I take the time to pour my heart out into writing this farewell? Because I want you guys to learn from my mistake. I know it sounds hypocritical, but don’t give up like I did. Stay strong and keep fighting. And the ultimate goal of this letter, all that I’m asking of you, is to try and perform an act of kindness at least once every day—just offer someone a genuine smile or a few sincere words. Since I didn’t have the courage to go on living and tell others myself, I want you guys to do it for me. If you see or even suspect that someone else is suffering, whether it’s from low self-esteem or abuse or anorexia, help them. I don’t want others to end up the way I did. Keep in mind that somewhere, someday, there’ll be someone who may very well survive to tell his tale and save the lives of others simply because you dared to help him. They, unlike me, will have the strength to go on living and try to change this imperfect human world for the better good.
Remember, always dare to hope. Dare to believe. And most of all, dare to love.
Tessa E. Lynthorn