Sunday, August 14, 2011

Stress

Dear Grandpa,

It has been a while since we've talked. I won't waste the time we have together to come up with excuses, just know that I'm sorry. I miss you so very much.

I have been so stressed out, Grandpa. Between all of the decisions I have to make, trying to make everyone happy, and preparing for my third year of school, I can't seem to think for myself. I always have to try to fix things and that can build up on a person. You're probably the only person I ever share all of my secrets to, be it through my prayers or through our letters. You have made mistakes and learned the consequences, you have seen me change from light-up sketchers to stiletto heels, you loved your family with all of your heart, but most of all, you are so much more than my grandpa. You listen until my voice is hoarse and let me figure out things on my own so I grow to be a better person. Most of all, Grandpa, you know all of me and still love me unconditionally; I feel it everytime I doubt myself. 

So I'll tell you everything. I don't know if I'm making the right choices for my future, my heart, or my family. I am mad that Grandma wont come home to us and that Mom isn't pushing it hard enough. I feel trapped in my parent's expectations and I can't escape that feeling. I hate not knowing what the future will bring and hate hearing everyone to tell me to be patient. I don't know if I have all of the faith I need to push myself in school and my priorities have been flipped upside down. I wonder what it would be like to be drunk and I hate that I'm even considering that. I feel too old for my body and I am pressured to be older than I already am. I used to play the piano, or listen to music, or run until my knees could give out to clear my mind, but now, they all force me to analyze even more. Even Chris Brown can't give me advice on what to do and that has NEVER happened.

I wish I could hold your purple-veined hand and consume all of my thoughts with you; whether you are hungry, or tired, or cold, or comfortable. I wish I could write poems again. I wish I wouldn't look in the mirror and wish I had a face other than my own. I wish I stopped listening to such sad songs. I wish I could tell Mom that she needs to give me a little room to grow. I wish I ran to your room when Grandma called and called 911 as soon as I saw you instead of composing myself first.

I could have fixed you.

Love always,
Your granddaughter

2 comments:

  1. You're growing up to become a special young lady, your grandfather would have been very proud of you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks, Inge. I hope I continue to make him proud.

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