Dear Dad,

You skair me. You punishd me for swimming, but I wasnt. I didn't. You didnt belleeve me. I told you I thot it was brokin but you made me stand on it anyway. It felt like a gazillion tiny shards of glass grinding in my ankel, thats why I skreemed.

I gust wantd you to now. And renting the newest land befor time wont reelly make me feel bedder. But I accept. For you.

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(Author note, yes the miss-spellings were completely intentional. I couldn't spell to save my life when I was seven.)

|| another-proser ||