Dear “My Second Home”…

When I woke up the next morning, it felt like a bad dream. There was no way my mom said those things to me, there couldn’t be. If it did then I had to be able to get through it and move on. This separation would only be worse. I reluctantly rolled over, scared of…

Dear Desperate To Fit In…

My mom and I had what I assumed was a typical mother-daughter relationship. We got along, argued, laughed, and cried, it just depended on the day. After the divorce, my mom leaned on me more than normal mothers would, as I realized later in life. Constantly referring to me as her best friend, which was…

To His Arms…

It felt like an instant that I had been laying there with him when my phone alarm went off alerting me with no mercy that I had to leave, because it was almost curfew. Jake and I both sat up and he looked at me pushing a strand of fallen hair out of my face.…

To Coming Home…

It was early the next morning when we head to the airport watching the city fade away through the cab windows. My entire being was conflicted with joy of going home and seeing Jake and battled with the knowledge that I was leaving France behind. Instead of the constant anguish and anger that I felt…

Dear See You Again…

The next morning we woke up in Barcelona, unloaded ourselves from the train and took a car immediately to our hotel. We were both sick still and weak, but we only had three nights in Barcelona and wanted to make the most of it but doing anything was way too much for us to handle.…

Dear Nice…

After seeing and experiencing Paris (as much as you can in 4 days), my mom had scheduled for us to travel to Nice and Monte Carlo. I had no idea what to expect, but  was excited to see another city in France, kind of. Really, I wasn’t ready to leave Paris, but I don’t know…