Emmy, I remember when I lived below you. You had the stairs and the deck; I had the grass with the tiny daisies singing songs in the wind. We watched the sunsets together, and found fairies, and dressed up for karaoke. You still live there, in that apartment up on the hill, with the white owl that leaves mice. I see you once in a while, you say hi, I ask you about what classes to take. But you’re not the same, Emmy, you’re not. You wear dark makeup and you die your hair, your pretty brown hair like chocolate frosting. I see pictures of you, Emmy, pictures that shouldn’t be there. What are you doing? You’re still young, you could be the girl that I looked up to, so long ago. But bottles and bottles, I can’t, no. We used to be alike, you see, and I haven’t changed. It’s you, Emmy, it’s you who never stays the same. Your boyfriend, he’s old, what do you do with him? I hear you fight and you fight but what’s the point?
Are you happy, Emmy? Tell me you are happier now than you were chasing butterflies with me years ago. I don’t believe you. I can’t. It’s not worth it, not when you’re so young. Please Emmy, please. Don’t you know that I know? I see what you do. You could hurt yourself. You already have. You’re smart, that’s why I ask you things, but if you get good grades then why can’t you make good decisions? You’re like the daisies in my old yard below you, you fight the wind and sometimes you stand up straight but sometimes you bend. Don’t bend, Emmy. Be strong.