Snapshot of a CEO’s heart

29 year old Maisie-

Dear whoever sees this:

My life is a shitshow. I am 29 years old, nearly 30, and I have never had a decent person besides my sister in my corner, and to top it all off, I have a condition that allows me to remember every sh*t thing that has ever happened in my life; it's called trauma, and it sucks if I'm going to put it in a nutshell.

Starting with 19, nearly 20 years ago, when my parents decided it was time to up and leave and not with me or my older sister. So here is my life; here is the one thing you'll probably get a giggle out of because, sure as hell, I laugh at my own boring life. Did you know...I have never left Houston, Texas...Nope...never. So my friends...kick back, get your popcorn at the ready, maybe a coffee if you aren't human but need to survive somehow and wait for all the drama of the last 19 years followed by the present tense of my life.

All my love...

Maisie.

19 Years ago

"Okay, everybody. We have been assigned to our school for the pen pal assignment of the 5th-grade students. Come and pick out your pen pal's name from the hat."

That's Mrs. Jenkins. She's our teacher for this year and most probably next year too. She's okay; I listen to everything she says, but she talks too much. I mean, what do you write in a letter to your pen pal who's the same age as you? The whole 'Oh hey... My name is Maisie, and I was assigned to you, but don't worry, I'm not boring.' kind of letter or a simple, Here's a bit about me kind of letter? I'm 10 years old, and nothing is that interesting, surely.

"Maisie. Come choose your person," she says with a smile on her face.

Making my way to the front of the class, I close my eyes as everyone else did, and I pull out the first one I choose in hopes I get a girl so we can talk about anything and hopefully everything. All the girls in my class are difficult to talk to unless you are one of them. Which is not me.

I wander back to my seat and then open the slip-up, only to sigh when I get the chosen person of 'Max'.

My best friend Taylor is leaning over to me, and she's eager to know who I got as a pen pal. I lean in to not get noticed by Mrs. Jenkins because that woman has radar tabs. She won't listen when you ask her to go to the toilet or to let you out to recess, but she can hear you whispering a mile away. Adults. You just can't deal with them unless you've had your morning juice box and a laugh before class.

"Someone called Max," I whisper while opening my notebook. The school is apparently in New York and is a really good school, so I hope he is quite a nice person. If there is such a thing as boys being nice,

I take my pen and paper and begin writing my semi-best letter in hopes it's readable.

Dear max,

I am glad I got you as a pen pal. Hopefully, you'll be a good friend one day, and I can learn a little bit about New York and the things you like to do there or your favourite hobbies and foods. My teacher assigned us to our pen pal, and I have never had a pen pal before, so it will be nice to have someone to write a letter to each month. Luckily for you, I am your pen pal, so here is a little bit about me.

I live with my mom, dad, and big sister Emily in Houston, Texas, but I would love to travel out of this state. I'm in 5th grade just like you, but I'm quite mature for my age. I have an older sister who is 4 years older than me, and we tend to stay out of each other's way, but she's alright.

I love animals, and my favourite animal is a dog. My mom won't let us get one, though she says they smell bad and they're bad for company, but I don't care; I just want a dog. My favourite colour is purple, and my favourite meal is za. Anyway, I would love to hear back from you! I hope you find my letter interesting, and I will look forward to hearing your reply!

Your friend is Maisie.

I folded my letter the way Mrs. Jenkins had taught us to do it, and I placed it in the envelope with Max's name and school address written on the front of it and the return address if he ever plans to write it back on the back. We were told that it would be great to add your return address in case you ever needed to send an important letter, but it had to be sent back to you for some reason.

Again... My teacher talked too much about presentations, neatness, and something else I couldn't remember as I was too busy, but I still listened.

Mrs. Jenkins told us that we should receive our replies in the next couple of weeks, as long as the mailman or woman gets them there on time. Hopefully, they do. Taylor got a girl named Cara as her pen pal, and I was considering swapping with her; she's always been good with the boys in our year, smiling, and will play football with them, but I can't even say hello to my crush Noah without spit-balling, literally.

Noah Chapman is the boy in my year who has always been what he calls himself 'The Ladies Man' in other terms; he has girlfriends every other day and then leaves them fighting over him. He's sad, but he's cute.

"You want to come over to my house after school?" I ask Taylor, who is still writing her letter with the blue sparkly gel pen her mom brought her the other day.

"I can't. Ebony is over for tea at nine tonight."

I know Ebony is her cousin, and I know I shouldn't be bothered, but she's just as annoying as Blake, who is Taylor's brother. He flips my ponytail all the time and pinches me whenever he sees me. He's two grades above us, but I spend a lot of my time at their house when my parents are fighting. Which is a lot these days.

"Okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," is all I say as the bell goes off and I head outside our classroom to go home and do my homework. My mom and dad will be at work, which leaves me and Emily at home for who knows how long on our own with so much to do.

My mom, 'Charlie', is the kind of woman you'd find in a fashion magazine, but in reality, she works at a law firm as the receptionist, and my father is a lawyer for that firm. Just imagine working with your wife or husband and then coming home together to argue. No...thank...you.

Walking home, I bump into Blake, who is with his friends, riding his bike in the street. He flicks my hair and rides off just as he always does, but this time I can't help but get frustrated, so I shout "IDIOT" at the top of my lungs. He doesn't even look back, but his friends do. Total idiots—the lot of them.

As I walked through the front door of my childhood home, I could feel the warm familiarity wash over me. I noticed something was off the moment I walked through the living room. My mom was there, frantically packing a bag and putting everything into boxes. At first, I thought we were going on a vacation. I mean, why else would she be packing if not for a holiday? Me and my sister loved going camping, but that stopped when we reached the ages of 7 and 11. But as I approached her with a big smile on my face, ready to tell her about my new school project, her usual smile wasn't on her lips; she didn't even acknowledge me. She just continued to pack, her face unhappy.

Confused, I asked, "Mom, what's going on? Are we going on a trip?"

She didn't respond to me; she just walked right by as if I were invisible. I could feel my smile slowly fading as I followed her into the living room, where my dad was also packing.

"Hey Dad, what's going on?" I asked, hoping he would give me some answers.

But just like my mom, he didn't seem to hear me. He just kept singing and tapping his foot to the beat. Feeling frustrated and ignored, I walked back to the kitchen and sat down at the table. I watched as my mom, who continued to pack, made quick and efficient movements. I couldn't understand why she was packing everything up. Was something wrong? Were we moving? Can someone tell me what's going on? Asking for a 10-year-old.

As these thoughts raced through my mind, tears started to well up in my eyes. I didn't want to leave this home—the only one I had ever known. I didn't want to leave my friends, my school, and everything familiar to me.

But as I sat there, feeling lost and alone, I remembered something my mom had told me once. She said that sometimes change can be scary, but it can also bring new and exciting things into our lives, so I waited for Emily to get home so I could ask her what was going on.

With that thought in mind, I wiped away my tears and mustered up the courage to ask my mom again, "Mom, what's going on? Are we moving?"

This time, she stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. I could see the sadness in her eyes as she said, "Maisie, can you please go and pack all of your suitcases and Emily's too and come downstairs? We're all going away." And that was that. If my mother ordered me to do something, I did it.

I felt my heart drop at her words. Selling the house? I didn't know what to say, so I turned on my heel quickly and did what she asked me to do. Surely they will explain on the way to our new home. The tears started to stream down my face once again as I packed. Four suitcases later, we were all packed and waiting for my sister.

Being a 10-year-old and not liking change, I sat on the sofa and cried. I realised that even though things were changing here, my parents' love for me would never change. And as we packed up our things and I said goodbye to our home, I knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in our lives. And who knows, if I was patient enough, maybe it would bring new and exciting things, just like my mom had always said.

But that wasn't the case at all. My mother and father waited until both me and Emily were in the car to tell us that they had been talking and they couldn't keep arguing anymore, that they couldn't handle being parents, and that it was a burden having me in their lives. If it were just Emily, they could have probably coped, which is what they were trying to explain, but having me as well? Too much.

That having me was a whole new thing for them, and it was something they didn't want. But if that was the case...why didn't they put me here when I was days, weeks, or even months old? When I wouldn't be able to remember anything about them.

After pulling up to some old-looking house, we were ushered out of the car, and my father drove as fast as he could out of the area with my mother sitting right next to him. Hours later, after sitting in an office hungry and cold, a woman entered our vision.

Mariah, she said her name was.

After some discussions and a lot of back and forths about our ages and why now we were told we would be spending some time with a couple or family and that we would move on soon.

A while later we walked up to the front door, and Mariah rang the doorbell. A woman with kind eyes and a warm smile opened the door.

'Hello, you must be Maisie, and you must,' the woman said, extending her hand towards me and then glancing towards Emily.

And just like that, my life turned upside down.

"You must be Emily. It is very nice to meet you both. Please, come on in," the lady says as she opens the door further.

I shyly took her hand, and she led us inside. The house was cosy and filled with laughter and the smell of freshly baked cake. I couldn't help but feel a little out of place in this happy atmosphere right now.

'Maisie, this is Mrs. Thompson. She and her husband have kindly agreed to take care of you both for a little while,' Mariah explained while still holding my hand.

I looked up at Mrs. Thompson, unsure of what to say. She just smiled and said, 'Welcome home, Maisie.' But I didn't want to be here. Instead of saying thank you or hello, I burst into tears and ran outside.

Her words brought tears to my eyes because I shouldn't be here. And even though my parents left me here, Mrs. Thompson showed me a sense of warmth and comfort, which I didn't feel was deserving of me.

As the days went by, I settled into my new home but