Dear Anita,

“if she loved you, your love for her would feel- to her-  like a breath of fresh air. All you would have to do would be to smile at her, and she’d smile back, her smile saying: I like you, Linarra, I am so happy that you are my daughter! You don’t have to work to make me happy: you make me happy just because you are in my life!”

Oh, yeah… So it is what love actually looks like. It is so… simple. Unlike the twisted unrequited love I had for my mother (I still feel weird at the idea I loved my mother, but I acknowledge it). I am glad, I think I may have people in my life who love me.

These hints of love… When I first received them from someone outside I doubted them. They made me feel good, so I wouldn’t entirely reject them (and also to not hurt anyone’s feelings) but I kept a safe distance. It is really over time I was able to… understand some people would really stay with me for other reasons than the wish to hurt me. It was weird, but I still doubted it was love, wouldn’t have dared to use this word about a relationship. It was “mutually beneficial and respectful relationships”, something like that.

In these good friendships, we don’t have to try hard to be respectful and say nice things, to enjoy having another person in our life. It comes naturally. It is more than what my mother ever gave me.

Now I think about it, I don’t remember the last time I genuinely was able to smile at my mother. I barely look at her. And the rare times I do, I don’t smile. Even when she’s doing something nice for me, I’m just polite with her. I am not happy to have her in my life. Does that mean I really don’t love her anymore?

“she understood before and she still understands that you don’t want to be touched in a certain way.”

Yeah, she just doesn’t care about my feelings.

I guess it is an appropriate time to say that our conversations make me smile, especially when I see you enjoy them too.

Linarra