"I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive, I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest, The greatest, the greatest alive." The Greatest ~ Sia  

Anne Hathaway plays Mom 

Mom, 

if you must know, I was debating whether to dedicate my last letter to you- after all, my problems will only add to your burden. But my life started from you, and I suppose, will end with you. 

I think you have the right to know the truth. I love you, Mom, I really do. 

I don't know how much you believe that now, though. Even now, as I write this to you, I hesitate with my choice. 

It was never your fault. 

How to start off this ending letter?

You were never the problem- Father was. I always envied Hunter and Liz, who he treated like his children. But me? I think he saw me as a failure because of my outlashed fashion, or maybe because I never fell under the "expected" category. 

At the age of 3, while girls were playing with dolls and boys with toy cars, I was with jigsaw puzzles and Rubix cubes. I never asked why the skies were blue or how babies were made. Instead, I read encyclopedias at the age of 7.

When I had playdates with Marisol, we were solving mysteries and writing stories together. Father despised Marisol, and I think it was because she had "no manners." 

I was fine with only you to support me, but everything went down when I was 11. I think he was never satisfied with his life. A son who didn't want to go to an Ivy League college, a Me who was too mature for him, and a daughter who was too sensitive. 

I remember school let us out early because of a prank kept the staff locked up in the Teacher's Lounge and the Principal finally let us go because no one was crazy enough to look after a bunch of elementary and middle schoolers. 

The house was empty when I got home. Hunter had soccer practice and Liz was at a birthday party. I wanted to "borrow" some lipstick from your room before you got home for Jamie Ruxford's birthday party, but when I opened the door, I saw a half naked woman on my father. 

Her name, Desiree, I remember, was what Father was repeating over and over again- while I openly gaped at them. 

And then, he saw me, and he forgot about his Desiree. 

"Room. Now," He growled, his stare shooting daggers so cold goosebumps appeared on my arms. 

As I registered the fact that Father had cheated on you, he barged into my room with an animalistic rage, "You won't tell your mother what you saw." 

"Why wouldn't I?" I had challenged. That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear.

And that was the first beating he had given me. 

I will spare you the memories of all the other beatings- especially the ones where I had to go to the hospital- but in those moments, I could see that he hated me. 

And those were the moments when I felt that I was truly alone, and no one would help me. I didn't want to live, because of my burden. I know, I should be in a therapy right now, but I don't want the help. 

The sick thing is, I want the pain. 

Because, it is true, that when you die, you will have no more burden. 

Please forgive me for the choice I've made so long ago.

Your daughter, 

Natalie Palmer.