I wrote a letter to my mom that I knew she would never see, but I had to write it. I still have it, and read it. I wrote it when I was 8. Then, I lost it when I was 9, and then found it again at 19. I did not remember it until I read it.

For about 4 years, my mom sexually abused me. She says I consented, but I don’t know how I was supposed to consent, when I was 4, and she was my oldest family member. She would say it was ok, and it was a secret, and I was a bad girl, if I told anyone. I think she was lying, and it was not ok. I feel afraid, when I think about it, and I can’t tell anyone because she will be hurt, and she’s the only person who has always cared about me. I knew she was bad, because I always felt like I was doing something wrong, when she did it. But, I loved her, and I felt like she was the only person in my life, so I did it with her. I felt like I had to do it with her, because she was my mother. I know she was wrong. I know I was wrong. I do not want to do it with her, but she says I always will. I will never tell anyone. I just want it to stop. I just want her to stop talking about it. I hate her. I do not want to live anymore. I want to die. I do not want to be alive. I hate myself. I hate that I was born. I hate everything. I wish she would stop hurting me. I wish she would stop touching me. I wish she would leave me alone. I wish she would go away. I wish she would die. I wish she never was my mother. I wish she was not my mother. I want her to go away. I just want her to leave me alone. I want her to stop scaring me. I don’t want to be alive, if she is my mother. I want her to stop. I want to run away. I wish I could run away. I wish I could get away from her. I hate her. I feel afraid. I am so afraid. I am so sad. I feel so bad. I wish I could get away. I wish she was not my mother, and I could tell someone. I wish I could tell her no. I wish I was not a bad girl. I wish I was not so bad. I hate myself more. I want to die. I wish I was dead. I was a bad girl. I should not be alive. I am a bad girl. I hate myself. I hate her more. She should not be my mother. I hate my mother. She made me a bad girl. She should not be alive. Then, I would not be a bad girl. I would not have to do it with her. I would not be alive. I would not have to live. I knew I was a bad girl. I knew I was bad. I will always be bad. I am so bad. I feel so bad. I should not be alive. I hate myself so much. I hate her. I just want to go away. I just want to die. I hate myself so much. I feel so sad. I hate myself.<br>Here ends the letter, and I am tempted to laugh, but my skin is chill. I feel shivers running along it, and I want to cry. I feel afraid, when I think about it. I feel afraid. I want to be held, and I want to cry, but I tell myself I am not sad. I mean, I am not sad anymore. I am not a bad girl, like I thought I was. I am not a bad girl. I am not bad. I can say that now. But, still, I am afraid, and my heart pounds. I feel shivers run along my skin, and I want to cry. But, I tell myself I am not sad, and I am not afraid. I can tell myself that, but I can’t tell anyone else. They will think I am lying, since it was such a long time ago, and I never complained. I never told anyone. Why would they believe me now? I never told anyone, so it never happened. I never told anyone, because I was a bad girl. It was my fault. I am a bad girl. It was my fault, and I should not tell anyone. But, I am not a bad girl. I am not bad. My mother was bad. She made me feel like I was a bad girl. But, she was bad. And, I am not afraid. And, my heart is not pounding. I wrote the letter, and I forgot it. But, my mother remembers it. My mother remembers it. She knows I was scaring.<br>She knows I was a bad girl. And, she knows I am bad. And, she knows I am a hypocrite. She knows I am lying. She knows I wrote it. I am a liar. I am a hypocrite. I was afraid, every time I looked at her, but I was pretending that I was not. I can’t tell anyone, and she knows I can’t tell anyone. I wrote it.<br>But, still, I am not afraid. And, still, my heart is not pounding. I am not a bad girl. It was not my fault. I am not a hypocrite. I am not a liar. I can tell myself that, but I can’t tell anyone else. I am not telling them. I am talking to myself. I am not a bad girl. I am not a liar. I am not a hypocrite. I am not afraid. Then, I laugh. I laugh, and I am not afraid. I laugh, and my heart is not pounding. I laugh, and the letter is gone, and my skin is not chill. I laugh, and I don’t want to cry. I laugh, and I am not a bad girl. I laugh, and I am not afraid. I laugh, and my mother is making a dinner. I laugh, and my mother is making a dinner for us to eat. I laugh, and I am so happy. Then, I can’t laugh. Then, I can’t be happy. I don’t want to laugh. I don’t want to be happy. I don’t want to eat the dinner. I am a bad girl, and my skin is chill. I am a bad girl, and I am afraid. I am a bad girl, and my heart is pounding. Then, I can’t laugh. I am not happy. I am not a bad girl. I am not afraid. My heart is not pounding. My skin is not chill. Then, I can laugh again. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I am not a bad girl. I laugh again, and I am so happy. I laugh again, and my mother is making a dinner. I laugh again, and I am so happy. I feel afraid, but I laugh. I feel afraid, and I feel so sad. I feel afraid, and I feel so bad. But, I laugh again. I laugh again, and I knew I was a bad girl. But, I laugh again. I laugh again, and I am bad. But, I laugh again. I laugh again. I laugh again. I am bad, but I laugh again. I am a bad girl, but I laugh again. I am bad, and I laugh again. I am bad, and I laugh again, and I am so happy. But, I feel afraid. But, I laugh again. But, I feel so bad. But, I laugh again. But, my heart pounds. But, I laugh again. But, my skin is so chill. But, I laugh again. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I am so happy. I laugh again. I laugh again. I laugh again. I am so happy. I laugh again. I laugh again. I laugh again. I laugh again. I knew I was bad. I knew I was a bad girl. I wrote a letter, and I knew I was bad. But, I laugh again. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I am so happy. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again. I laugh again. I laugh. I laugh. Then, I can’t laugh. I laugh, and I am not a bad girl. I laugh, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I knew I was a bad girl. I laugh again, and I was a bad girl. I laugh again, and I was bad. But, I laugh again. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I knew I was a bad girl. I laugh again, and I feel afraid. I laugh again, and I am a bad girl. I laugh again, and I am so bad. But, I laugh again, and I am not afraid. But, I laugh again, and I am bad. But, I laugh again, and I am so bad. I laugh again. I laugh again. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I am so happy. I laugh again, and I am not a bad girl. I laugh again, and I am not afraid. I laugh again, and I am not bad. I laugh again, and I am so happy. And, I laugh again. Then, I can’t laugh again.