Dear Whispers,

I can hear you.
I know you’re there and I am afraid of you. I know you live down the hall from me in that room, and down stairs in the kitchen, in the living, dining and bed room. You’re not the crazy kind that I can hear in my head. I don’t want you to come back like I know you will when I move back to my dad’s in America. I remember hearing you at night as I lay in bed while you think I’m sleeping. I have heard every bad thing you whispers think of me and I know they, not all but some, are true. You tear me down and make me feel terrible. I HATE YOU! but I have had to live with you ever day for the last couple of years. Some nights you are quiet and I get to have some peace but I can’t really enjoy those nights can I, when I know you will be back tomorrow and if not tomorrow then the next night and if not then may be the next or the next or the next? Always haunting me always ridiculing me, always never with a good thing to say, always with how you might have to deal with me and my problems never considering how I have to deal with you or your problems or the problems you cause me or my own problems. Fuck you, die, I hate you and everything about you. Please, just stop! Why can’t you ever say something kind, why can’t you love me!? I love you but it seems to me I’m just one of your problems. I wish I could lay in bed at night and hear the good things, the loving things or even nothing. I wish I could fall asleep thinking you love me.

Love,
Your daughter.