Dear Teenager

Dear Teenager,

I want to apologize for demonizing you each time you hit rock bottom. I will never be able to make up for all the moments when I failed to recognize that you were just doing your best. I'm sorry for being embarrassed by your efforts to stay alive. 

It is not your fault that you were dealt a hand of cards from the pile of family dysfunction.

It is not your fault you were mesmerized by those who do not deserve a single sequin of your beautiful time.

Between the forced vomit, addictive blades, and absent men, you built an empire of survival. You painted the side of a skyscraper with the words, "I fucking made it." With an unwavering grit and a burning drive, you gave so much to a life that was tossed to you as an afterthought—a sour marital obligation.

It breaks my heart to remember all the times you stayed up at night so that you could wish upon the shooting stars of happiness you deserved to experience.

I love you, my dear teenager. 

I'm proud of you.

Thank you for getting me here.

Yours always, 

Jharna