Dear Mom.

Hey there beauties! This will be my most vulnerable post yet. This was one of the first letters I wrote to my mom. I still tear up looking back. My heart was, is still, and will always be shattered. 

December 2018. 

Dear Mom,

Mom. Never in my 17 years of life (15 when you died) did I ever call you that to your face. Not that I was rude or anything, but because you didn't like it. You grew me like we were equals. You made me feel like even though you were my mother, you were first my friend. I know that when God made you a mother, He made you the absolute best one there is. Neta you would've done anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, for your children. Even when I especially was a pain in the ass you loved me. YOU LOVED ME NETA. You loved the broken little girl that I was, that I still am. You loved the sick little girl that I was, that I still am. You loved the sad little girl that I was, that I still am (depressed now though). You loved the tired little girl that I was, that I still am. You loved me. All of me. My weirdness, my shortness, my fatness, my miserableness, my laziness, my sadness, my insecurities, my everything. You loved it all. 

I remember you rushing with me to the hospital every time I got sick. Lol, the security guards knew you and it's not just because you used to work there, but because when they saw you coming they knew that you weren't a screaming mad woman, you were a loving mother. Hours upon hours you'd sit with me and cry with me and pray with and for me. Not even just in sickness, but with my school work. I never ever did a project without you by my side, burning the midnight oil. You would help and refused to sleep before I was finished. Then, you'd check in on the grade for it later. You always checked in. Everyday after school, the best parts of my day were shared with you before I even changed out of my school clothes. I'd tell you EVERYTHING and you could keep up. After all, you knew all my friends, or about them. You knew everything about me. I miss coming home to see you outside pulling weeds or tending to your chickens. I'd see you from out sister Ruby's gate or I'd hear you singing. And I'd just come home, throw down my bag and "reason" with you. All evening. Until the mosquitoes were unbearable. 

Neta I can't manage. Not now when it's near Christmas and we're not cooking together, or shopping together, or baking together, or going to church together, or taking pictures together. Not when it's almost your "death anniversary" and my heart feels shattered. Not when I feel like my life isn't worth living anymore. Not when I don't feel like I'm loved or that I belong. Not when everything is falling apart. Not managing ma. Not now. Not almost 2 years later. Not at all. 

All my love, 

Bella

Thank you all for reading my purest thoughts. Stay tuned for more.

And if you happen to read this, answer this question:

QOTD: If the world as you now know it were to end tonight, what is the one thing that you have done that would make you feel as though you did not waste your life? Mine is that I have learnt to accept that I won't always be liked and it's not necessarily because I am not likable; it just means that not everyone will appreciate who I am, and that is completely okay.