text: I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky because maybe they can relate, feeling a semblance of the same pain that I’m feeling. The sea would know, for how many have drowned in its flesh? It wasn’t the sea’s fault that the ignorant stray too deep. The sky would watch on, not realising why the small gets smaller when venturing too far down. And as the sea and the sky, I also am lost as to why one would disappear so quickly. Why she would. My star in the sky is now lost in the daytime and I do not know why. I lay in my lonely apartment, regretting to stray from the aesthetics of interior design my daughter begged me for, that would currently help me look at swirls of colours and emotions instead of dull blanks. Those blanks which are similar to the ones in my mind, who are wishing to see the just as lonely sea, to find someone to relate to what I’m feeling. All she left was a note, tattered with the scent of musk and ageing, as if she’s been gaining the courage for years to give me this bleak piece of ripped paper. I always knew my daughter to be decisive yet dependent, however, this note speaks of the opposite. She left. For why this happened, I do not know. There has only been the two of us, the picture perfect mother and daughter that stray from hardship and live in each other's joy. This isn’t joy. For the tattered note that *crinkled* in my hand revealed as such. *Dear Mum, I’m leaving...* I don’t want to read the rest as I fear my heart would shatter into tiny pieces, too small for glue to fix, yet big enough to cut yourself on. How could she do this to me? Was it to get back at the times I neglected the need for her to be more social? *Why do you need to go out so often when you have me?* I would ask, locking her in the house until she could understand that a mother is all you need. It may seem harsh, and she may have looked at it as so, mockingly calling herself *Repunzel* or *Cinderella.* However, the difference is that I’m the mother all kids wished they could have, I would have never thought of myself as a crazy old witch. Mother knows best and she would thank me for my company when she’s older. If she ever gets the opportunity to do so. If I ever see her again. I don’t understand how she’s even capable of leaving. Technology is the core evil of the Earth and I did everything I could to prevent it disintegrating her delicate, youthful and innocent hands. All she would do was write in her notebooks. She would write secrets that aren’t so secret when I have read them myself. I remember, after that incident when she caught me looking into her mind, she would write notes less and less, her writing fading along with her true sense of self. As I know my daughter and she wouldn’t leave me. I know her and now I know a bit more. That she’s a selfish, self-centred, sorrowful snake to leave with all but a goodbye to her now fading mother. And I know what she would say, that I’m a hypocrite, that I should ‘look in the mirror’. For I’m apparently the epicentre of all her problems and that I’m the sea causing her to drown, I’m the sky who’s watching her drown and I know what I’m seeing. But it’s not entirely my fault, and if she thinks so then I had no intention of hurting her and her rare relationships. I was protecting her, I’m still so sure of it. Sure, maybe I went too far. Locking her away like Repunzel up in that tall, terrible tower. Was this tower just as terrible? With the bleak walls, and the smell of rotting fruit that ties in with my rotting heart. I lost all care of everything else as I spent my days as a hovering helicopter to my daughter. For maybe the sea isn’t as kind and peaceful as many dream it would be. It has had its bad days where many would fear the unknown. I don’t think the lonely sea would relate to me as much as I am starting to relate to it. I’ll finish what I started, and read the letter. For maybe then I’ll start to understand my daughter.