Lately, we haven't been talking much. Have we?
You say I have changed. Yes ma, I have.
I want to talk to you. I swear mom, I want to. But you don't seem to have time for me. You have time to criticize me, judge me, and I know you're doing it to motivate me to improve. But mom, it isn't helping me anyway.
Mom, when you walk in my room at 4 am and see me fiddling with my phone, its not because I have someone special to talk to. Its because I'm so lonely. At that hour, I find strangers to confide in to. To talk to, for a momentary solace maybe.
Mumma, sometimes I want a shoulder to cry on, to weep out my pain, my loneliness. I can't trust people, but I do trust you. I feel lonely, aloof, even among a crowd. I hate going out with people because I feel alienated among them, I feel anxious.
Mom, I know I get those bouts of anger a lot. You know why? Because nobody else cares enough to tolerate them. Only you. I shout at you only to regret it later. I say words I never mean. I cry when you're not around and curse myself. But sometimes I feel, you don't even care. I'm sorry.
Mom, I know you love me. You have told me that a million times. You are always there to guide me, support me, but mom sometimes I don't need a parent but a friend in you. Some times I don't need my daily cup of perfect coffee but a comfortable silence with you. Is that too much to ask for?
I hate myself, a lot. And when you say those words amidst our pointless arguments, it cuts right through my heart. Those judgmental words I hear people talking about my back hurt even less. They hurt a lot mom. You will never understand.
Mumma, I can't express. I know what you have been through, how much you have sacrificed and how much you love us. I do know. And I do love you a lot. You drive out my anxiety with that warm hug of yours. Your smile gives me courage to face the world. Ma, you're my idol.
Mom, I tried to be the perfect daughter for you. Maybe I never could. But I still do try. I hope someday you understand my efforts. I hope someday you get to read this letter. I hope its not too late by then.
From,
Your Depressed Child.