Dear you, I'm still outraged. You should know this better than anyone else. I love your mood and all the books and writings. Can you imagine why I started with 'Dear You' at the beginning of my letter? I know you are smart enough; you will be able to figure it out. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you.
Nowadays, I look in the mirror and think about you. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how I look, almost like you? Some things I've always presented. You are the same, but you have long black hair on your head; your hair is always messy. I look in the mirror to see its reflection, shiny and thick.
You have the same golden eyes, with their hues of green and blue that always made you mysterious. These are somewhat oblique; it seems to me that I have no definite descendants.
We have very similar skin, almost like coffee mixed with cream, light brown, but not white. Usually, I wouldn't say I like coffee, but you want it; it was for you if I ever pick it. I have a slight tingling sensation all over my nose and the upper part of my cheeks. Although you have the same. As I write this, I look at myself in the mirror. Why we are the same, and it makes me a little sick. As I write this, I feel uncomfortable in my stomach; I am not feeling well. We're both tall, though you've always been taller.
Dad, your friends, even me have always chosen you in memory. And the man you ran away with. The man you started a new life with, and I learned from Dad that you went through a divorce. You didn't even say goodbye to me. Not a hug, not even a kiss on the forehead while sleeping, not whispering, saying, 'I love you. Dad told me you left at midnight. You just came out of the house with a bag and your purse. Didn't call me once to explain everything, no false excuses, having to leave for love, or you can no longer bear Dad. You didn't tell me anything.
Whenever I look in the mirror to see if my hair is OK, or if the messy hair is OK after the bath, I see your face. I don't want to see your face anymore; I hate where my face should be in the mirror; I should reflect. It makes me even angrier at you. I never want to look in the mirror again. I want to change something about my appearance so that I don't look like you. I will always keep in mind and try not to be like you, not leave the ones I love. So goodbye, Mom.
