Work Text:
Mom,
I’m sorry, I’m not like her. I’m sorry that my smile didn’t bring pretty birds and soft bunnies running to me asking to be my friends. I’m sorry that pretty dresses didn’t hang in my closet and ball invitations never littered my vanity.
Dad,
Forgive me for never learning the power of my voice the way she did. For not knowing when to raise it in defense of my worth and of those around me, or when to quiet it so that I may hear those who need to be heard most of all.
Momma, Daddy
Know that I know. Know that when I look back and see those small, Pretty Princesses. I see that only one of them grew to be the Queen you hoped for us to be. Know that I understand that the Queen who has made you so proud, the Queen who you see, isn’t me and never will be.