Dear Mom,
Well, I did it. I'm sure you think I've gone off the deep end and that I'll never come back. I'm sure you're sure that I have a lifetime of substance abuse and hurt ahead of me. I'm sure you're wondering how I could've done this, when I saw how drugs destroyed my own father.
Now, I hate to have to say this, because it sounds so...teen. I hate that you don't understand this about me.
It's no big deal.
I smoked. I smoked a couple of times. I got high, I had the munchies, I felt really good. Yes, I even liked it.
But I'm done. Really, honestly, truly. I have no need to smoke again, and most likely won't.
I'm me. I'm the one who tries something once or twice, to understand it, and then doesn't do it again. I'm the daughter who got drunk two times and never again. I'm the daughter who snuck out twice, and hasn't since. I'm the daughter who wants to have these life experiences, but won't make it her whole life.
I'm still me. And I'm still that daughter. And I think that you know that, but you're scared to let go, to let me grow on my own and to make my own mistakes and choices. But you're going to have to.
I'm going to screw up. A lot. I'm going to do things that make you shake your head with shame. But these things are going to be the moments that break and build me, the moments that really teach me something. You have to let me have that.
Sometimes, it's okay to just be a teenager.
To have one wonderful, rebellious weekend of freedom and boys and lies.
Sometimes it's okay to let go, and live it up.
To try things you've feared.
Sometimes it's okay to break the rules, to experience life, to live on the edge.
Sometime's it's okay. As long as you come back.
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