dear deer dearest,

my parents are fighting again. do you remember when they used to do that? i'm curled in my room writing in my journal to you.

god, i hate when my father tells my mother that she has no reason to be upset. it happens more than it should.

they're not shouting, that i could handle. they're talking in small voices, both sounding close to tears.

i don't feel like i can leave my room until they stop.

they don't sound like they will stop soon.

with all the love in the world,

the girl with a broken heart