I’m not a perfect human, and I’ve fallen short. I’ve carried bitterness and anguish for years. My words are my truth. My thoughts are my truth. I need heard. I deserve to be free of the imperfections that I created before I knew better. I deserve to be happy, though I’ll never meet the expectations of my adoptive parents. These letters are my transparent vulnerability of my past, present, and future. Handle them with care.