So I guess it's time to start this.
My dad died yesterday. I suppose that got me to think about when I'll die, as we all will. I came to terms with this fact long ago, but that hardly means I welcome it. I've almost died a few times. It's nothing I look forward to happening for real.
You may wonder why I write this with pen and paper. It would be far easier for me to record myself. The answer is twofold, though I'm not sure which outweighs the other. We'll just assume it's the first--being my seemingly innate fear of cameras. Yes, it's true. And you may laugh, thinking about all the times I've stood up in front of that Senate, knowing there were a thousand digital eyes on me. I got through it by sheer force of will--that stubbornness I've always had and I know you have in you. I saw it in your eyes the first time we met. You didn't trust me, did you?
The second reason I'm doing this is because I find digital media to be corruptible, and most people don't even look for books these days, anyway. You can read. I know that. This is my legacy for you, as flimsy and insignificant as it may be.
There are things I plan to tell you through this. Some are secrets the galaxy may never know. Though I guess that all depends on how much you choose to reveal. It's your book. It's your decision. Make a fool out of me, or exalt me enough for some historian to put my name down as the best or most overrated politician ever. Whatever you do, it won't matter to me. I'm assuming I'm dead by the time you read this, so I'll have nothing to care about at that point.
Speaking on death: I'm not sure how I'll deal with Dad's passing. He and I got along alright, but I never recognized anything special about our relationship. Perhaps he was affectionate with me. It's hard to say, because he was usually gone. I was stuck with my mom, whom I hated (Hopefully I'm not this figure to you.) and therefore hated my father for leaving me to be alone with her on most evenings. He was always busy running his big damn business and I don't remember having too many family meals together. I had all the money and crap I could ask for, but I didn't have my dad and I sure as hell didn't want my mom. Now I don't have my dad at all.
Am I too much like my mother? I know I'm bad. And maybe I'm like my dad in the sense that I'm always away. Have I ignored you? I'm fairly certain I'm a terrible mother. I teach you horrible habits. Heck, I curse all the time--apparently in this book, too. I'll try to fix that, but no promises. No matter what, though--no matter the fame and the power and importance I think I may have--you are the most important thing to me.
I don't know how to say it to you yet. Not sure I've said it to anyone at all since I was a very young girl. But I love you, Miria.
I hope you love me too.