Dearest Mother, now on the apex of my thirties

Dearest Mother, now on the apex of my thirties, I have:
 
no clue where my next meal is coming from,
should have listened to you when you said invest in good face cream,
felt wind wrap around my body and that feeling that rushes to your face when the wind smells like maybe you can be a different better person after-all if you just close your eyes tight enough and squeeze hard,
funny looking X-rays,
a broken heart,
never worked so hard in my life,
never felt so broken,
photographed the sunrise, the sunset, and midnight moon all in one day,
mentally prepared a KCP&L shut off notice back-up plan loosely based on Fallout II and the emergence of zombie movies,
wear size 4 wide leg pants to work,
a hot glue gun resting on the counter in my kitchen,
a kitchen,
lost my way,
had men tell me to seek mental help,
had women tell me to seek mental help,
leaped off of two stories buildings, 
laughed at low viewing youtube videos,
to believe something good will happen because you brought here and worked three jobs to make my future when all I want to do is not have one, to keep living for you,
to be better for you,
to do the laundry,
to fold the fucking laundry
to get on a ladder,
to flirt with old ladies at Aldies who could stand a second of passerby help loading Wheat Thins into their Cadillac Deville.
to change a light bulb in the basement,
to make love each time like its my last,
to look both ways when I cross the street,
to be kind and honest except for what I had for lunch,
to make someone laugh a nest of laughs,
to laugh again and really mean it,
to pack a sack apple and peanut butter every time I run away,
to chase after the ice cream truck a block away with my little girl someday, Cynthia you think we can make it? Hold my hand now and pick up your feet we have to buy Popsicles! 

Thanks