𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 [✓]

4. A Letter To My Love

Warnings: Mentions of severe abuse, depression, death, suicide

Oh look, it's another sad thing. This one is really fucking dark though. So if you're at all triggered then please, please stop reading.

Daniel James Seavey,

It's my birthday. Nobody is celebrating though, not even me. It's like my foster parents keep forgetting, every single family I've been with (and there's been a lot) nobody has even wished me a happy birthday. I don't understand. Why did they take me in if they seem not to care about me?

First, there were the Greens when I was seven. They were nice. But apparently, I was too much work, with my constant nightmares and paranoia. I don't think they realize that when you see somebody shot in front of you, you would get nightmares. Most of the others were a blur. I'm with yet another family. Do they even know that today marks the seventeenth year I was on this earth? Probably not. I gave up reminding them when I was ten. The dad of the family told me I was being a little twerp and hit me. I stopped after that.

We were in a bank, me and my dad. There was a holdup. I was only six and I started crying. One of the men yelled at me to stop. I got scared and called out for him. They told him to shut me up. I couldn't stop crying. They shot my dad.

Why am I telling you this? I honestly don't know. Maybe because I have no one else.

You know your life is awful when the only people you love are either dead or celebrities who don't know you exist. You know it's bad when you write your suicide letter to somebody who will never read it.

Love. I love you.

I can't stop this feeling of detachment. It's like I'm seeing all the pain from a different angle like it's happening on a screen. The invasion stopped hurting long ago. So did the beatings. It started with a sense of not being myself. Then during the beatings and the hurt, it was like I didn't feel it anymore. At first, I was thankful for it. But it spread to the rest of my life. I can't feel joy anymore, not sadness or anger, just a void of nothing.

The mother calls me a dead child. She says I'm a broken doll.

I'm going to do it today.

I want to feel something, anything. The last time I felt real emotion was when you and the boys released Don't Change. That was almost a year ago. That was the last time I cried.

I am a pit, a void, unable to love, broken. I can't feel. I'm a monster. I'm detached. A dead child. A broken doll that nobody wants. A pathetic, inhuman monstrosity. Dead.

I love you.

But are those just empty words? I don't know what it is to love. Or be loved. I've forgotten. Do I actually love you?

I love you.

Empty words for an empty girl.

Love.

Love, y/n y/l/n

***

Well then.