Dear Mom,
It was great talking to you on the phone today. I’m glad I picked up. No one writes letters anymore, and I want to change that right now – beginning with myself.
There’s something I need to confess to you, and somehow it’s easier in writing than face to face. I don’t feel that I’m being cowardly by writing rather than speaking to you in person. No one writes letters anymore.
I’m sure you are aware of the big discrepancy in size between you – my mother – and myself. I have always been secretly ashamed, not so much of your literal size, but of the fact that you are average in intelligence and appearance. Let’s face it – you haven’t really accomplished anything of real value. You always dress in khaki pants, a denim jacket, and tennis shoes. Now that you are old, do you ever wonder what people will say about you when you are gone? We are not judged by our intentions, mother, but by our actions. What have you done?
Again, it was great talking with you today. And I’m glad that in addition, I’m also taking the time out of my busy schedule to write to you.
I hope this letter finds you safe and sound.
Love,
You Daughter Forever
The Hungry Artist 