A Letter to Them

Distance. You could be standing directly in front of me, next to me, or behind me. There would still be distance.

Despite this, I don't yearn to close the gap. I am content with the space between us. I have become accustomed to it.

This lack of closeness is like a cushion. A cushion that makes your presence bearable. However, as time goes on, I increase the space. I stay further away from you.

This stretch of space has spread into physical cases as well. I no longer like to sit next to you. If I can, I try to keep a seat open between us. I have been doing this for so long that seeing you bothers me.

I don't like to be in the same room as you. I hate it when you look at me. It feels harsh. Like a knife. Your eyes cut into me and see my thoughts, as if they were words on paper like these.

I swear you can read my thoughts. I just know you can. Why else would your eyes narrow the way they do when you lock eyes with me? Why else would it feel like my head has been ripped open and stripped bare for your eyes to see?

Maybe you just look like that. Maybe you just wear that scowl all of the time. Do your eyes glare at everything they lay on? No. That can't be right. I've seen you smile. A real one. Rarely is it directed at me. When it is, it's brief, only there for a second.

I can get used to this. I have been for a long time. I wasn't prepared for my discovery, however. That face you wear, the very one that scares and cuts into me, is now my own. That same expression is displayed on my face.

Your eyes. Your words. Your frown. I have them all now. I hate looking like you. Except, not only do I look like you, I act like you. I snap at people as if their actions have personally offended me. I glare, and I use words that cut.

I once loved being around you. I don't know what changed that. Your being became torturous. Knowing that you will look at me makes me sick to the stomach.

The worst part is that I am thankful for you. You give me shelter, food, and water. You give me love, even if it is with a simple three-word phrase and a hug.

I could be starving, poor, and living with someone unstable and unfit to guide someone through the world. You prevented that. I now have an inspiring stepmother and sweet half-siblings.

Regardless, I am unable to feel comfortable with you. Things are so much better when I don't have to see you. It is shameful to admit, but it is the truth. I do love you, but I don't like you. I truly wish this were not the case, but allowing myself to feel this way is a weight lifted off my shoulders.