An Apology

This was a letter I wrote to my parents as part of a history test on 11/23/99. It was very much a release, but at the sametime very painful to write. I showed it to them, and I didn't get too much of a reaction from it. I don't think they got the message, even though they always tell me I should apologize. Maybe this wasn't good enough, or maybe this reached them. But this did let some of my grievances be known to them.

Dear Mother and Father,

I know times have been hard, rough, and otherwise not pleasant lately. Things seem to be getting out of hand around the house, and we all seem to be losing touch with each other. I too have seen myself slip further and further away from the family as well, partially by my own accord, and partially by circumstance.

Where to begin, there are so many things to be said that I must only be told in the little consistent time we have left together (until I go away to college). I could try to apologize for all of my wrongs, but that would indeed take too long. I do wonder why I have such trouble making apologies to you two though. Maybe it's because I feel quite threatened, even though I know I shouldn't, for the longer it takes for me to tell you something, the more cumbersome it becomes to my conscience. But just because I say it in the end doesn't mean the burden is lifted.

Notice how for the past month and a little while longer how I have left myself to be quite alone, or at least in solitude. Upon your constant begging for me to do something, I only said that I didn't feel like it. In all truth of the matter, I was punishing myself for a secret I held from you two. A secret that I had kept from you two and no one else. It was very hard for me to tell you, and you know very well why. I was afraid of the inevitable.

I was afraid, absolutely and totally. I was scared that neither of you would see things from my view, as you two have failed to do before. Many times, I tried to confront both of you about it, and many times, some dire circumstance came up that wouldn't let me. I wanted to confront you both at the same time, and lo and behold after quite a wait (in my mind), that's what happened.

I know I try too hard and I know I expect way too much of both of you. I find myself constantly expecting you both to be perfect parents when I keep preaching that no one is perfect. I'm sorry, for I have committed a wrong that both angers and sorrows my heart, my soul, and my bones. Sorry about my "creative" handwriting, I had fun in Richmond, and I hope that things get better between us soon.

From your son,

Chris Ward

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