Umbrella Girl by Jordan Guerrero (15, California)

[content warning: self harm, abuse, bullying]

# 

“Write her a note and she will hear 
Under her umbrella, your thoughts are safe 
Burn the letter and it will be clear 
As the paper disintegrates” 

# 

---

The First Letter 

Dear Umbrella Girl, 

I don’t know how to start this letter. Mommy, she hates me I think, and i don’t know how I’m supposed to please her anymore. I can not do anything rite anymore according to her and um she hates me. She hates me because I’m not getting good grades anymore and even though I’m not fayling school she hates me because the grades I am getting are not As and I am trying my hardest but she keeps coming into my room and yelling at me. She says that I am a failure and she’s telling me that if I don’t get good grades she will abandon me in the streets and I wish she did not hate me. I don’t know what to do I’m too scared to talk to the teachers because my math teacher is really strict and she also expects me to do good a lot and she yelled at me also for not finishing my homework assignment on time and she also says that she will give me Fs if I don’t
get the work done. And I try to get it done but it’s hard to concuntrayte on ahsinements wen everybody is yelling at me to not fail. I think there is sumthing rong with me and I think I need to be ficks. I wish mommy will stop yelling at me and I want my grades to be better but everytime I sit at my desk and try to do homewerk I cannot do it correctly. Mommy always says to ask her or daddy if I need help but whenever I get sumething rong she yells at me to get it rite. And sumtimes I don’t know wut I did rong becus she won’t tell me. I try talking to my math teacher 2 but she won’t giv me cloos on wut I have to ask. The other kids in school tell me that it will all get better if I just follow dyrecshuns but I don’t know how to follow dyrecshuns. I wish mommy does not hayte me anymore and I wish my math teacher will stop yelling at me and I wish I can solve problems like I used to do. Corectly and not in a way where mommy and my math teacher yells at me. I am scared to burn the letter but I hope that when you recieve the letter that everything will be better and that things will be complete. 

From 

A wishfool second grader 

# 

The Second Letter 

Umbrella Girl, 

Everyone at school’s talking about how this is some cult type a thing. When I burn it it’ll summon a demon or something, I don’t know. This is stupid. Today, I couldn’t understand what the new chapter of the book we’re reading in class, Pride and Prejudice, meant and I feel dumb. I don’t deserve to feel this way, and my hand hurts cause I punched the wall. Pride and Prejudice has a 12.0 AR reading level and last week I took the reading quiz test thingie and my reading level is in between 7.5-13.5. I SHOULD BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THIS STUFF! I don’t know why I don’t! I read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in under two days and yeah sure it has a middle grade reading level, but still! I don’t think my hearts ever beaten so fast and I was so embarrassed when I couldn’t feel anything in class today, and my teacher kept repeating that stupid question over and over again, “Why does Lizzy form a negative opinion on Mr. Darcy,” and I don’t know why my mind just completely shut off. He got more and more annoyed, I could sense it, and I kept punching my legs trying to answer the question and then he just sighed and moved on to the next kid. I tried to bow my head down to hide the fact I was crying, I was an idiot today. This is stupid, why are you the answer everyone keeps pointing me to? You’re not real, and who writes letters anymore? Whatever, this won’t help me, you won’t help me.

*letter continued* 

I took this out of the trash and uncrinkled it. I guess I need to write some more. This isn’t stupid, I’m sorry. I just need someone to listen to me, I don’t know what kinds of questions I’m supposed to ask in class and the teacher, and he gets frustrated at me cause I’m supposed to be the talented one in class, whatever that means, and I can’t answer one stupid question about a dumb book written like a million years ago. I hate it here. I got a 98 on the dumb quiz about it and punched my already broken hand on the wall, it’s in a cast so I’m writing this with my other hand. Stupid teacher took points off for one question, but I think it’s just cause he hates me for not answering any of the other questions in class. Again, I hate it here. 

Sincerely, 

An “over it” 13 year old. 

# 

# 

#

# 

The Third Letter 

Umbrella Girl, 

This… is a last resort. I need to talk to someone even if it isn’t proven they’re um real? My workload this week has been too much. I haven’t showered or eaten in two days because I can’t get this dumb assignment done. I’m conflicted, I don’t know whether I should just take the shower/ eat the meal or if I should continue to sit in front of my computer for seven more hours trying to write a research paper on the Japanese Diaspora when I have no motivation to do it. I have this thing where I give myself privileges everytime I complete something, you know like if I complete a homework assignment then I can shower if I study for two hours then I can eat dinner. This research paper is due in an hour and I haven’t done anything yet. I’m so hungry and I smell like shit and I keep slapping myself to do the friggin thing but I can’t. My mind’s so out of focus and every time I try to talk about this with someone all my friends and my sister keep calling me lazy or unmotivated, and they keep recommending meditation apps to me and I don’t know where to go anymore. I just have this urge to shoot my laptop with my little brother’s slingshot or slit my arm so badly that I can have an excuse to go to the hospital so I can have more time. I’m too scared to ask for an extension, it might make me look even more lazy and dumb and Mr. Brunswick’s gonna get mad/pissed at me for sure. My throat is hurting now and tears are starting to fall down my face due to how much my stomach’s churning absolutely nothing and it hurts so much. If there really is a girl up there who listens to problems and shit, can she solve them too? I’m tired. 

- A drowsy and sleep deprived 9th Grader 

#

# 

The Fourth Letter 

Dear umbrella girl, 

Hello, the instructions on the website told me I’m not supposed to reveal any information about myself so I’ll try not to, but if you see any crossed out sections… It's probably because I revealed too much about myself. I don’t know if this is considered sad, writing to someone who doesn’t exist, but I wanna believe that there is a girl somewhere beyond the heavens that can read the remains of letters after they’re burnt. I tried talking to my counselors about it, but I’m scared if I reveal too much they’re gonna try and notify my parents and I just want someone who’ll listen to me. Just listen to me. They all call me Whoops... sorry. People at school sorta shove me everywhere but that’s just for fun. I don’t know why that’s considered fun and all, but I’m glad to be a part of the group. My friends like to steal my stuff, but I always tell them that it’s ok. I don’t know why I feel so… down? We’re just playing around and I guess I’m being too serious about this stuff. Maybe I feel this way because I make my friends sad, everytime there’s a pop quiz in class or a big test I always get good grades on them and my friends don’t. I’m not really sure, but after a test and stuff the playing gets more intense. Like instead of just being shoved to the ground, we play this special game called zombie apocalypse and my friends would always sacrifice me as bait. Angie and Noah always like to Sometimes I miss the end of recess bell because I’m buried under a pit of sand to hide my rotting corpse. Again, Umbrella Girl, I don’t know why this makes me feel so down? Aren’t friends supposed to make you happy? I try not to get good marks on my tests or quizzes cause I don’t want to make them sad when they don’t do as good, but now I’m worried that I’ll start to fail school. I’m scared, so scared, and I don’t know which I should focus on more. My friends or my grades. My name is adrian

- A conflicted fourth grader. 

The Fifth Letter 

Everyday I feel like I’m gonna die, my thoughts spill out in a jumbled mess at first so please hear me out. I hate the sound of my own voice and I can’t quite articulate sentences correctly so maybe that’s why I find writing so... appealing? I love the sounds of typing, it’s like rain follow and a soft pitter patter sound of when tiny droplets hit the roof over my head. I’m in love with soft sounds like that, even faint sounds you hear at night as you sleep. I like being single. Means I have the bed all to myself and the only person I talk to is the ones I make up in my head. I love myself that way. Gotta keep telling myself that. I love myself in that way and despite all the mistakes I made in the past, I can always hope to be a better person in the future. You live and you learn and along the way you get scars and maybe even inflict them unto others. In some ways, people get hurt. And you know what? That’s just life. Say la vie! In French I think, idk. Anyways, this is digital so I can’t burn it, but I hope you’re reading it anyways UG.

Sincerely, 

An imaginative teenager 

# 

The Final Letter 

Umbrella Girl 

Life just kinda feels like a numb existence to live in at the moment. Dad wants me to see a therapist, but I don’t feel comfortable sharing secrets with someone who doesn’t really know me well. Part of me hopes that you aren’t real, other part hopes that you are. It’s confusing, I don’t know exactly how to put it into words. What I feel… it’s too abstract I guess. I don’t like to talk about it because how exactly am I supposed to talk about it? I feel like a fool for not knowing. It’s easy for me to describe how lizards can lose their tails and regrow them, how the rain cycle works, but never can I understand how a person can feel so sad after completing and getting good scores on several essays. Dad says I’m supposed to feel good about this stuff, that I’m special. He says that I’m better than everyone else, and I’m supposed to feel greater in a way. I don’t. Why don’t I feel good? That’s the bit I can’t explain. This letter’s messy and unorganized and it bothers me a lot. I’m conflicted as to whether or not I should see a therapist, but I don’t think this stuff calls for it. Dad says that therapy fixes all your problems, but he also says that I should feel elated at the fact that I’m “gifted.” I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m too tired to write anymore. This is all I got, and I still feel blue in some way.

- Just an anonymous writer.