It was a dark, stormy night, as I sat in my desk, tapping away a storm, pen in hand, waiting for an idea to pop up and splash me in the face. I couldn’t imagine myself writing my final goodbyes to my family, it felt as if I was saying goodbye forever, and I could never do that. I was told that it was a…goodbye for now, and I’ll see you as soon as I gain control of myself. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay with my family and be together, but it couldn’t be. A tear escaped my eye and plopped on the paper. I inhaled and put the pen down, wiping the tears that were threatening me to fall; I didn’t need to make this any harder than it should be. I look at the paper, take up my pen again and start out:



Mom,

If your reading this, that means that I have gone already to the mental institution, and am on my way to getting better. I’m writing this to tell you that in a couple of months, I’ll be all better, and will come back into society as a newer, better me. I miss you already, and, I’m not even out the door yet. Tell Sasha and Johnny that I’ll miss them, and that I’ll be thinking about them in that room where I’ll be locked up, away from any humane contact. Mom, I want you to know that I will try; I don’t want to be like this, I don’t want to set a bad example to my brother and sister. Tell dad thanks for the support, that I couldn’t have made this decision without him; I couldn’t have made this decision without any of you guys. I love you all, and don’t forget about me.




--Helena

I seal it into an envelope and seal away my heart. I put my mom’s name on it: Sharon, and walk downstairs with all of my belongings that I’d need in the mental institution. I will get better, that’s all that matters, that’s the only reason I’m doing this. I don’t want to be crazy, so I’ll get better…I hope. I tip-toe downstairs, leave the letter on the vase in the foyer, and open the door, taking one last look at my home, before I step into the darkness of the night, a teardrop escaping me once again…