The lies I told my mother

Mom, it's me. I can't tell you this in person, not ever. You always thought I was so perfect, your little angel. But I wasn't. Remember when Mrs. Henderson's necklace went missing when I was babysitting Lily? You defended me, said I'd never do such a thing. But I did. I took it. I was jealous of Lily's things, all the fancy toys they had. I felt so poor and angry. I sold it to some kid at school for twenty bucks. Twenty stupid dollars.

And remember when I said I was staying late at the library to study for the history test? I wasn't. I was with Mark down by the river. We were making out. I lied because I knew you wouldn't approve. God, Mom, I lied so much. I'm so sorry. It's been twenty years and it still eats at me. I hope you can somehow forgive me, even if you never know.