Sarah Muerte: A Composition.
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Rant
I’m so unbelievably hurt right now I can’t even express it.
You couldn’t even dignify my mother with a phone call. I loved you like my family. You were family to me. You’re daughters were like sisters to me as a child. You were like a second mother to me.
My mother did not tell me to e-mail you, I took it upon myself. So before you write her another juvenile e-mail, spitting out how you feel with stinging remarks that have come from pent up emotion, don’t bother. This is all me.
The last time I had anyone write me a letter to tell me how they felt, I wasn’t even old enough to vote. Not one to miss the irony in all of this, I just wonder, how much does it hurt to have someone you’ve known all their life treat you with such distain in emotion that can only be expressed through pixels on a screen. How dare you treat the subject of your 30+ year friendship with my mother with such callus disregard. A REAL friend would have brought up any issue that needed to be resolved at the moment of discomfort, not left it fester into a stewing, childish rant that serves as a last ditch effort to communicate after IGNORING her for 2 months. You’ve been around for almost 6 decades, can you act like you lived through at least 3 of them?
And finally, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Who the hell do you think you are? Get off your fucking high horse, take an unbiased look around and see who is right and wrong. I’m not saying my mother is a saint (and neither are fucking you), but honestly, truly think about why you feel this way. Was it something she said? Was it something that was a misunderstanding between you two? Is it really ALL HER FAULT? Or are you just looking to place the blame before you truly analyze a situation to the fullest and realize what a shitty person you are underneath? I probably could have phrased this email with more eloquence, but Jesus Christ! I’ve never been made to feel like this by someone I LOVED DEARLY! If I could look you straight in the eye right now and say all of this, I would.
On that note, don’t bother ever trying to contact me again. The very thought of you and your poor decision making skills makes me completely sick to my stomach. I’m 26 and I could have handled this situation with more grace and dignity than you ever thought possible.
But RIGHT NOW, I’m choosing to be a bitch, and you know what? You deserve it.
