Dear Mom
I'm sorry I'm a shit daughter with anxiety who doesn't believe she's worth shit to the world. I'm such an inconvenience when I ruin everything by crying and frustrating you. I'm sorry that I can't do everything you expect from me. I'm sorry it gets hard sometimes and I don't know how to explain it to you. I'm sorry I don't like dresses, and I get upset when the ones I like don't look good on me. I'm sorry I would much rather play piano than look at colleges three fucking years early. I'm sorry I don't understand what I do wrong sometimes. I'm sorry I'm upset with how I look all the time. I'm sorry that I was the good child once, the one who fucked up her own life and can't put it back together again. I'm sorry I'm 15 and make too many mistakes to be okay with. I'm sorry I was born when you didn't want another baby. I'm sorry.