When I was little I believed that if my mom slept next to me, she could read my thoughts.

She covered my head with the pillow, believing that this would be a barrier so she wouldn't realize what she thought every night before going to sleep.

She was afraid that she would find out about that tall skinny boy with fair skin that I had a crush on in fourth grade. Or that time she didn't finish copying the class because she was talking.

She thought she would notice how many times she imagined what my first kiss would feel like. Or the times she'd run the halls and I'd get bored of math in fifth grade.

And I didn't want her to know.

But now...

I grew up and there is no longer any fear of a possible mind reading. Now I beg my mom to sleep next to me to appease the storms in my mind.

Maybe if my mother could read my thoughts. She would realize that behind her smiling daughter there is a girl in pieces and with thousands of stray bullets charging in her path.

Mommy, I am no longer afraid of the dark because I feel safer in it than when there is light.

I stopped being afraid of monsters when I realized that I had them for company. And when you turned me into one of them.

Mommy, if you read my mind today. Would you give me that hug that I ask of you and you reluctantly.

If you knew my thoughts today you would let me cry on your shoulder.

But you can't do it.

And the only thing left for me is to smile because it is because of you that I am happy.

Despite my problems.

I want you to see me laugh, because I know that deep down you too

A monster eats your soul.

And the cure for that wound is this daughter of yours with a smile complex.

Mommy.

I hope one day I won't have this lump in my throat

so I can tell you what's wrong with me.

I hope that day is not too late and that there is not a farewell.