Dear Mommy,

I know we're getting off from our rough patch, so let me start off by saying this: I still love you. You are my mother, you are my protector; you are the reason I am here. For that, I will love you until the end of time. I can be mad at you, I can tell you I hate you and never want to talk to you again, but the reason that comes out of my mouth is because I love you, and whatever happened at that time severely hurt me. No matter what, I love you.

When I was a little girl, your visits to see me made my day, my month, my year. Everything I did constantly revolved around you and what you would think or do. I wanted to look like you, I wanted to act like you, I wanted to be you. But when you were gone and the only explanation I had was that you were sick, I think it killed a part of me. No longer was the chubby, bowl cut of a hairdo five year old, but instead a grown up. I think you know that though - I think you know I took on the role of an adult to this crazy, sometimes neurotic family I was brought into. I wasn't coloring and playing barbies, no. Instead I was trying to take care of a father who couldn't take care of himself, a family who wouldn't give me answers; I had to become wise beyond my years. As much as I thought I would be hostile towards you for it, the more I realized I must thank you for it. I must thank you for allowing me to grow up, even if some would think it was at an age far too young. But this letter isn't about that.

I'm sorry. For every little thing I ever did that tore your heart out of your chest, I am sorry. I'm sorry for the nights I was fifteen but thought I was in an adult relationship and stayed out all the time, never coming home to our empty apartment. I'm sorry for all the times I told you I wouldn't care if you died because newsflash - I very much would. It would destroy me into someone I will no longer know.

I am sorry for all the partying I did. Do you remember the time I walked through the door, smelling like alcohol and holding a WaWa hoagie in my hand? You asked me what was wrong with me, and I muttered out "I went to a party" before throwing up on the bathroom floor and passing out on my own floor in my bedroom. I'm sorry for the time you found that dime of pot in my purse when you were looking for bus money. I'm sure it killed you. I remember how hard you cried. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry for the time I fell asleep in the chicken dinner you made me. I told you I smoked pot. I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry mommy.

I am sorry for all the times I made you worry. Do you remember the time I was out eight minutes past my curfew, and you locked me out? I thought it was really silly (I kind of still do), but I understand you did it out of worry. You did it so you would have to know when I got home. I'm sorry for the times I had parties at the apartment and you came home praying it didn't smell like cigarette smoke and cheap beer. It always did, no matter the amount of cleaning I did. I'm sorry for all the times I had people come over that you hated me being around. I'm sorry for all the times I retreated to my bedroom, sneaking off to get high. You knew, I knew you knew, and didn't care.

I'm sorry for not caring when I should have.

My Queen and I.

I'm sorry for blaming you for the rough times we went through. It was easy to do that. It was easy to blame you, and put these heavy burdens on you while I wasn't doing much to help our situation. Instead, I got high, in my head saying it was your fault. It wasn't.

I'm sorry for dropping out of high school. I remember the day I told you. We were standing besides the refrigerator, watching Foxxy Cleopatra the kitten run and jump and play. I hadn't gone to school for a while at that point and you looked at me with sad, tear stained eyes and asked if I was going to drop out. I said yes. I remember crying because you did. I am so sorry.

I'm sorry for not being the veterinarian Princeton graduate I always said I would be growing up. I'm sorry for letting my grades fall and not caring about it. But as I've told you time and time again, if I could go back in time to fix this all I would. But unfortunately, I can't. It's not too late to fix it, though. I promise, on everything, I will make something out of my life. I'm sorry for making you want to go to crazy lengths because of how bad I hurt your feelings. I will make you proud.

Please know, I always bragged about you. I never once said how bad of a mother you were to my friends. I always sold you high, telling them you were my best friend. I told them how we never fought, but when we did it was bad, then made up the next day. Everyone would say how you were the cool mom and I would just get a big smile and agree. They didn't know just how cool you were though. I was lucky enough to get to live with the most hilarious, badass mother on the planet. How did I ever get so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve that? To this day I don't know, but know I pray and thank God everyday for you. That's why I get so harsh with you. I just want you to see strive as the amazing, intellectual person you are.

From someone who loves you more than anything in the universe, "to the moon and back, always"

Your daughter