I’m not going to send you this, so I shouldn’t be worried how you are going to respond. But I am. Because I don’t even know if you would answer. Mum says you never speak to her, she says she’s trying her hardest but she can’t seem to… get… through… [imitating crying]. She cares, you know, even if she overreacts sometimes, she really does care. I should know, she calls me at least once a week in tears. She read your diary once, it made her really sick, you remember in May when she was off work for a week. You should be nicer to her, she really struggles at work and stuff, to pay the bills and that, but I shouldn’t say that to you because you’re ‘going through stuff’ and it would be ‘insensitive’. Sometimes I want to scream, there’s so much I want to say. The people at school are bad, but that’s not mums fault. And your dad, he is a horrible person but he didn’t leave because of mum so don’t take it out on her or you’ll be just like him. But I can’t say any of that. I wonder if you would reply, we didn’t really speak much when I was at home, I don’t know why it would be different. But you should speak to someone, everyone says it’s better if you let it out. I don’t know if it is. Maybe that English teacher, or a friend from primary. I don’t know. Anyway, I was thinking, maybe you’d like to come and visit me, you could stay in our flat, you could sleep on my bed, I would sleep on a blow up mattress on the floor. And we could talk, I’d show you the city, my favourite park. I could tell you what life was like when it was just mum and me, and you could tell me what it’s like now. It would be nice and maybe for once your diary would have happy stuff in it. But obviously that’s not going to happen because I’m not going to send this.
Lots of love,