By the time you're reading this letter, I must have been dead. He slapped me today again.
He nearly smashed my head on the door post. I wish it had end anyways.
But I will kill him to night. Definitely, I will. That your reading this piece, shows is my plan worked out well and you're stand looking up, beneath my dangling lifeless body.
I told myself, it's game over today. Don't you think its better I end it. May to stay away for good. What is life, when it's filled with scars, wounds, and tears and emotion ruptured at it's infancy.
Mine was ruptured, crushed by him. Should i recall the endless nights, my nectar bud was ripped, rapped over and over again. I try to cry those times, but tears have dried up in skull.
I don't emotional water any long, agony have stolen mine. Sometimes, wants them to flow down my Chick, to my Stive heart was no long responding to any tenderness.
Did he actually married me? I'm. Sorry I have lost account of time and my mind is so unfruitful to remember. How did really happen?
How have become an experimental tool in his hands. He have access at all time.
Like a voracious hyena, he would pounce on my groin, tearing me into two half. He has tortured my body to mastery. Now it no long feels nor does it appreciate good or evil.
I must end it.
Does love give and take also?
All I have done was to give and give again, but pains and agony was my take in it all.
Please don't cry for me, I am better over here than continue to be ravaged, in the name of love.
What a name is love, that kills a tender shoot, even before it did bud.
I was imprisoned in a deluded Paradise I created for myself in a quest for an arm so strong, wide enough to accommodate my fears and insecurity; and also shade me, from the threats of this chaotic world. But never know such arms are figments of ones imagination.
They never exist.
I will take this journey Emily, to be eased from this pain at my left side of the chest. Its excruciating that I feel like am dying, the next minute.
But the worse pain of all is to Love and not being loved in return. It's the pain of donating your heart with of its cares to one who looked at it and shot it with a bow arrow.
He has shot me Emily, my heart is gone. Its only my body that is sustaining till now.
They said one should follow his or her heart, I must follow mine, for it is far gone.
Dear Emily, don't love with your heart and all of its content. Allow your head to teach you courtesy. If it's possible love with the right side of your heart, for the left is costly.
That's where life lives. I learnt it very late, that's why I left living.
I will be writing you, for a long time so that your can master the game of heart and never end up like me.
You will not eye me again, but you will hear often. There are note you will get from from the mailer weekly from now onward.
Those notes will prepared your spirit, soul and body for the ultimate battle of hearts.
The game of heart, is the most fierce battle of all many are casualties like me.
It takes courage to fight and win. I want you to win, don't be chicken hearted like me.
I throw in the towel so quick, but my heart was not ready for that game. Now its has come to an abrupt end.
Your Dear Mother
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