Sierra Juliette

A Letter to a Different Me

I see you. You beautiful, broken girl. I see you walk up the stairs, every step a little bit further away from the monster sitting in the living room. He has the TV up, laughing too loud at a show. The sound sends shivers up your spine and churns your stomach. It's too loud, grating against your ears like nails on a chalk board. It is cartoonish, obtuse—like the designated idiot's laugh on a sitcom might sound. You hate it.