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Letter - Blog Posts
To Adora, From Elliott
To the little girl, I used to be do you remember all those nights when you would stay awake Thinking up all those far away dreams You would stare up at the ceiling planning out how you would do it all
All those years you spent taking care of everyone else Watching your siblings, making sure that they had the childhood you never had. Giving up on all those dreams you had made for yourself Handing them over to your siblings, thinking that maybe they could let them grow. Planning on becoming their superhero, Ready to save their day, Shielding them from all the screaming, The sharp words being thrown like knives. Giving them a haven from the flying fists and broken doors.
But darling I promise you Your life will not have been wasted. I will following your footsteps saving the kids from those monsters that lurk around them. I will keep themself, and make sure they grow
Remember all those nights you would make promises Between you and the world outside that shitty apartment window Telling yourself it would get better, rehearsing it so much it was branded in your heart and brain Telling yourself those thoughts would go away That you could wake up And be the perfect daughter You would wake up and be a girl and believe it Your body would no longer feel so wrong
Spending all those nights and early mornings Praying to that god you were so hopelessly clinging to Begging him to make it all make sense Those thoughts stuck circling in your head All the worries and fears that had kept piling up Tangling themselves together
you were right when you said you’d never see twenty-seven You weren’t even able to see yourself as a teenager The image always seemed so far off, Just out of reach a dream you always had each night but always leaving in the morning light Leaving you with just tiny pieces of it.
You had been off by a few years though There was never a sweet sixteen for you No birthday presents and a new car. You had been long gone before that.
You had barely seen fourteen, Eighth grade was your last. But I think you knew that. I think you had come to terms, Knowing that you would die soon. But that’s how you were always giving, giving, and giving. So I guess it wasn’t that big of a surprise.
What would you think of me now if you saw who you became Would you be proud? Proud that I finally found myself That I had finally realized who I was Would you be happy? Happy that I had made it this far, That I was able to finally make it to sixteen, even though you didn’t?
Because for me to make it, You had to die, I had to kill every part of you. I had to be the one to hold that pillow over your head, I still have the scars from those scratches you gave me. I carry them like war paint, showing the world how I was born.
I had to burn that name you carried for years, Burning it to ashes, spreading them to the world. The name you carried on your back like a shield or a burden Depending on how you looked at it.
I cut off those beautiful brown locks that you loved. Those curls littered the floor of the bathroom, while chopped them off with some old kitchen shears. That beautiful brown color was bleached and turned any color besides that natural tone.
Your skin that was then envy of your family I covered in scars and marks, making it match the way we both had felt. Making your family no longer love it, turning it into something they no longer wanted to see.
I took the breasts that you had always hoped for, And had chopped them off, leaving your chest barren and scarred making it easier for me to live, no longer have those things as a reminder as to who you used to be, while it had made you cry out in shame, for you had lost the things you had been hoping would make you feel as if you belonged in your skin.
but my dear adora, I hope you realize that nothing I had done to this body, that was once yours, was in malice or hatred. it was just something I had needed to do, for me to live happily. please remember I’ll love you forever, my little girl of grey. rest well knowing will live this for the both of us, taking those chances you never did.
always and forever, Elliott Mars Parker.
mama don’t you know
Mama, don’t you know your little baby is sitting in their room? Crying their eyes out screaming for help Screaming for you to help them Begging for you to love them for who they are
Mama, can’t you see the way they're pleading? How their pleading for you to love them For you to finally tell them they're good enough For you to please noticed this once how much they need you.
Mama, do you ignore the blank stares and the emptiness? The way they wear barcodes on their body How no matter how much they try, they can't get you to love them
Mama, do you ignore all the blood and tears? Pretending you don't hear them crying out at night Acting like you don't notice the blood and bandages.
Mama do you spend your days looking for new ways to hurt them? You filled their heart with all your spite and hatred. Poisoning your little baby before they had a chance to grow Making them believe they were a weed Never let them be able to believe in anything else.
THE LETTER (by joud abu rashed)
Words: A single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others (or sometimes alone) to form a sentence and typically shown with a space on either side when written or printed. Words are a way to express one’s self, they show emotion, they might hurt someone, end relationships, start wars, they can be used as a weapon, since words are an important factor of both freedom and democracy, but most importantly words impact people, either negatively or positively depending on the situation. the war has ended a year ago marking a new age of democracy, it started since poverty was spreading like an illness due to the evils of monarchy so naturally the people protested their rights using their words but they weren’t heard the government was deaf to their pleas so a war eventually broke out in order to gain justice. Chaos and confusion that’s was how I lived after all I was a child an orphan who lost both parents and any sense of peace or security I ever had. I was lost, starving, with no will to live in this cruel world. Along with the bloodshed, something happened or rather someone came and rescued me.
His name was Ashton Arlert, He was a kind man with a heart of gold. He took me in, provided me with every necessity. He taught me how to read and write, how to use a gun and protect myself just in case I find myself in a difficult position, but most importantly he gave me a will, a will to live. After years of suffering the war ended which lead me to decide to live a normal life, so I moved out to pursue my own career as a ghostwriter in a small company. You see after the war there was a huge decrease in people who knew how to write, which meant ghostwriters (especially for letters) became widely popular. My job required me to listen to people, to observe and analyze their emotions then find the right words that fit the message they want to present. I had my own life, friends, responsibilities, etc yet Ashton never left my mind, he was like a father to me and I never showed him how much I appreciated what he had done towards me so I decided to write a letter to him. I was a professional writer with tons of experience yet I struggled with it (ironic isn’t it). For days and days all I would do is stare at an empty piece of paper with a cramped hand longing for words. Needless to say I was frustrated. I wrote and I wrote as if I was running out of time but nothing, just nothing. Everything I wrote would soon become another crumpled piece of paper in the trash, till one day while the smell of my morning coffee was mixing with the smell of ink coming from my pen I suddenly found the words that I longed for. I ran to the post office with the feeling of relief in my lungs and a hint of excitement in my eyes. It was a quite night when he received the wax sealed letter, he looked at the handwriting a sense of nostalgia flooded him. He held it with his wrinkled hands as he read it with tears flooding his ocean blue eyes. The letter simply said “Thank you, Ashton, for everything. Sincerely Nadia” A simple phrase that’s all it took to bring a grown man to tears.
Okay so….
Um, on the 15th of October, last Friday, my dad passed away. He had gallbladder cancers nd it’s got so bad that the doctors weren’t sure what to do. So they put him in home hospice care. Less than a week later, he died at home. I watched him die. As such, I am currently in mourning. It gets easier every day but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. I am 18 years old (haven’t started college cause I took a semester off to take care of him), I have a 21 year old brother and a 17 year old brother. My mom is now a widow at 52 with three kids who are barely grown. I have to find some way to help her and fanfiction does not make money.
I am not sure when or if I will update my fan fictions. Please do give me time as I am in passing. And as an 18 year old, I am still not sure how to deal with ANY of this. I will try to update my stories when I can even if it doesn’t fit in the season it should. It might not be up to the quality it had before. But thank you for reading my stories and waiting.
I promise to update soon.
Lucien Flavius Stimboard!!
Books, Library, Skyrim, Money, Imperial, Poems, Writing, Literature, Study
(Gifs do not belong to me.)
