Letters, Part 7
—with thanks to Claudia Cortese
Now that I’ve made you, I’ve become even more afraid of cliché. The body I made for myself isn’t the one I should assume you’d also want. The way I disappear making you follow the hole I left in the wall. Did I make another hurting girl so the world thinks all we do is hurt? If both of us were real, would you be my daughter or sister or friend or mother? I can’t make the world love you, but let me know if you want to quit this place or if you don’t want to hear from me again.
Let me revise the last questions I sent you. What I want to know is the ripple effect of disappearing girls. Of making more disappearing girls to emphasize to the world how many go missing. Do they start blending together so we can’t tell one from another? What kind of narcissism is required to make one look just like me? What kind of violence to push one inside a wall? I don’t know how to apologize, how to thank you without it sounding like a door slammed over and over. If you’ll let me, I promise I’ll make your house over any way you want.
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