Good morning!
Sorry that yesterday was difficult. I can’t count the number of times that you’ve been left frustrated and angry, because mom’s been more than an hour late to pick you up, and you’re not “allowed” to call her on it. The last time we had this conversation, mom screen-recorded it to shut down any dissent, or the idea of anyone holding her accountable for not showing up, again.
It’s one thing to be more than an hour late to pick you up. It’s something else to offer no explanation as to why. Something even more to not allow you to speak about it, and, something worse to keep doing it, repeatedly. Someday, you’ll value your feelings more than your fear, and you’ll speak up. Until then, I’m really sorry, and I truly wish things were different.
I just want you to have the power to make your feelings and emotions heard, and need you to grow up knowing that how you feel matters, and that you’re not wrong for having feelings, and that others should listen to them, and take them into consideration.
You’re not going to be happy, but I looked for the little skull container I keep my paperclips in, and couldn’t find it on my desk, where it’s been the last two years. When I realized where Charlie had moved it to, I found that it is now empty, as well. I looked everywhere, but could not find any. I’ll meet you with the two sweaters, both skirts, and some metal stuff I found that isn’t chains, but might work.
It’s late, and I’m really tired. I’m not sure what your friend is doing at the bottom of this photo, but it’s awkward, and not so great, lol. See you in a few hours.
Love you!
-Dad
Field Day