Dear Mase,
I hope this letter finds you well, but if you’re anything
like me, it won’t. That’s how this whole blog started in the first place.
Everyday for a very long time, I would write you a letter. I just missed you so
much and I thought if Mase were here right now, what would I tell him? The
whole blog was originally supposed to be letters to you. Now, it’s just filled
with broken pieces of my life. Little orphan Samantha to be put on display for
all of the world to ignore, just like they always have. Do you feel like anyone
has ever seen the real you? I used to think that if showed people all of you,
that was the only way you knew whether or not they really loved you. Modern
Samantha is much more sophisticated in the ways of the world. No one really cares
about the real you, as long as you’re a version of yourself they like. I think
maybe I just wasn’t meant for all of this. I care about the real in people, I
care about how they are. You never want to show me the real you. I think that’s
sad. I’ve met several versions of you and they are all my favorite. I just
think maybe I wasn’t intended to be around other people. I’ve always been an
orphan, which is totally irrelevant, until you realize that being an orphan,
means you never got fulfilled as a child. It means when no one loves you, you’re
not really surprised. When no one cares about the real you, it’s just another
day. You know, my whole life, I always thought if I could just find one person
in the whole world who really cared about it, and took my hand and took me far
away from everything else I had known out of life, I’d be the luckiest kid in
the whole world. But the truth is, at least in my case, there’s a reason no one
ever really loved me on the inside. I’ve spent my whole life altering myself to
be less emotional, less unhappy, less fucked up. I thought having a home would
change those things, that was stupid. A fraction of yourself is still yourself,
right? I think you know a little bit about that. The difference is, people
would still love you, you’re scared of what’s on your inside, not them. I, on
the other hand, am best served when my inner child is buried and shut down.
When I die, do you think anyone will really care if they knew the real me? Do
you think they’ll even know the difference? Not if you smile big enough. There’s
a reason I never had anyone really there for me. There’s a reason none of them
spent time with me/ There’s a reason I was always last. There’s a reason every
single person I have ever known has left me abandoned. I guess they all did me
a favor? I never thought the shit that happened to me would come back and bite
me in the ass, no matter who said it would. That just makes me a whole idiot. But
it’s good, teach them early. People only want the absolute best version of you,
it doesn’t matter what inside of you has to die to make that possible. I don’t
think there’s a single person in my whole life that was ever happy to see me. I
was always best served quiet and ignored. No one ever cared how many nights I
spent awake alone, no one ever counted how many birthday’s I spent alone, no
one ever, never, not once in my whole life, laid down beside me and cared about
how I felt inside or what was going through my head. No one ever texts me and
asks me if I’m okay. Why would God put you on a planet surrounded with people,
and no once has anyone ever listened without the need to respond and hear
themselves talk. I’m still alive, that’s all that matters to everyone, right?
Just once, I just wanted one person to ask about my insides. I hope wherever
you’re at right now, you feel surrounded by the people that I know love you. I
think your insides matter. You used to be a great listener, and I think I
really needed this. Life won’t be so bad. I’ll do better for you. I’ll be
happier, smile more, feel less, throw away sadness, it’ll be great for you. I
wish you wanted to talk about yourself sometimes, I’m not totally ugly on the inside.
Wishing you good things for your future. – Samantha
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