1234 - California sounds nice, but California's a lie.

Hey Mom,
I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I've always said that I write to you because sometimes it's easier than telling anyone else, since you can't respond, or judge me, and I can no longer break your heart like I used to.
So essentially, that just makes me a coward. But I guess you already knew that. I've always looked for the easy way out.
I don't even know why I'm so upset this time, and yet I can't stop the tears from flowing out of me. I feel like a monster. When I was little and I couldn't get to sleep, you'd take me in your lap and hold me there til I fell asleep. I miss that, Mom. Despite the fact that I'm far too old to need that anymore, I've been yearning for it so much more lately. I just want to curl up in your arms tonight and let the world melt away behind me. Now isn't that the sign of true cowardice? Hiding until it goes away. There's nothing I'd want less than to be 15 again, but I'd do it if it meant I could talk to you for just a little while. Tell you I was scared, or lonely, or angry. I just want you to tell me it's okay to feel this way sometimes. I just want someone to tell me it's okay to be who I am. That's a mom's job right? To tell me that she loves me no matter what?
The ugly truth is, I'm not a kid anymore. I don't need your validation. If you were alive now, I wouldn't want you to tell me it was okay, and that you love me no matter what. Unconditional love is amazing, but I'd want you to love me because you love to love me, not because you have to love me.
I want to be a person you'd want to get to know. And I don't think I'm that person for anyone. Dead or alive.