To whom it may concern:
My name is something I cannot bring myself to say. However I must get this out. I am about to combust from these reasons floating in my head. I constantly wonder why? Why me? I was supposed to be happy, but now look. Things just haven’t gotten better. My life is running down the drain. These tears fall like the water that continues to drip down even after you turn the water off. I can’t take it. I can’t take another night of crying myself to sleep. People wounded me and now I want to let go. So if you are reading this and didn’t toss it away like some people who have tossed me away let me give the many reasons. It is all I have to give.
The first of my many reasons is my father, oh, good old dad. Oh how I just adore him. Fathers should be supportive and caring. They should listen. Nah, not my dad, that just isn’t his style. My father is the exact opposite of that or damn well close to it. I’ll let you in on a little secret. He abused me for sixteen years of my life. I still remember the pain in my legs, head, back, and every other place you can think of. He dragged me! He pushed me! He pulled me! He dragged me to the ground! He hit me! The most recent memory that my shattered mind didn’t block out occurred when I was sixteen. I don’t remember why he did it. All I felt is that anger boiling inside him. He slammed me against rusted metal. The tears came down. All I could do was try to stop crying. I knew from past experiences that crying made it worse. I would have to hear his voice yelling insults.
The insults would just fuel the other memories of my childhood. I remember pleading and begging for him to stop. I remember all those awful things he told me. I remember how much even the emotional abuse hurt. He destroyed my things. The book fell off my bed, but he didn’t understand. He ripped it up, but he didn’t just rip a book in my mind. He ripped up pieces of me. That was my escape and he destroyed it. Escape from what you may ask. Don’t worry you’ll find it out later. He knocked my beads on the ground and made me sweep them up. I worked so hard to collect those beads. Yet he made me sweep them up like the pieces of me. My father, oh my dearest father destroyed more than my childhood. He was what started to tear at my heart and cause all those reasons to fill my mind. He was the first to hold me, and the first to destroy my heart.
The second reason makes sense to come next right? I just wish everything would be as simple as one, two, three. If you got through that depressing part, congrats. The second part can be summed up in one word, bullies. Yep I am so lucky. Not only was I abused, but I was also bullied since second grade. I don’t really recall all the names they called me, but I remember it hurt. Have you heard the phrase, “sticks and stones make break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”? Ha, well that is a lie. Those words made me cry. Their threats made me scared. Their threats made me hide in the bathrooms and hide behind books. That was my only way of coping. I tried other things like getting help, but the school consular told me to ignore them. I don’t blame her even though her advice did nothing. Nothing could stop them. It continued through middle school and even a little in high school. If you think I am pointing a finger I will assure you I am not. I don’t blame them. They were just kids, following other kid’s leads. Even the leaders I forgive. They could not have known it lead to this.
Are you getting tired of me yet, for me I am tired of my past. So let’s move on. These last few years have been bogged with sadness. I faced betrayal from a boy who said he cared. I would rather not get in detail. The incident shames me as well, but it leads into how all the pain came back in to my heart. The boy who “cared” kissed me when I was with someone else. The boy who I helped betray left. I get it. I don’t blame him. I was to blame. Who I blame is the boy who cared. He by kissing me made those feeling come up. Did he have to use me? He brings me pain. Now I see him every day. The past haunts me, but he still smiles at me. I see the boy I hurt too. Still talking to me as much as he can, not judging me. I just can’t help, but think what did I do? That relationship is long gone. I moved on, but the feeling of being hurt prompted the memories. Memories that could lead me to my grave.
More reasons happened in that year, yet finally I got out of it. I then fell back in when my significant other and I started fighting. I began the cutting. It soothed the pain of the fall. I suppose the fall hurt so much because the first kiss he gave me saved me. We stopped fighting, but it always started back up. I love him still, and he loves me. Yet this paragraph is about him. I never thought I would be thinking my father’s abuse would seem like nothing. Yet my lover proved me wrong. He started to lose control. He started to hit me. At first he regretted it, but the more he keeps doing it the more he loses himself. I can’t say it out loud. I can barely say it to myself. He is abusing me. He says he wants help. He says he needs it, but money is too tight right now. I just hope I still have the man I love before it is too late. I have seen the desperation in his eyes. I have felt the hurt from the pain he caused. What hurts the most beyond the insults he throws or the abuse is the wondering. I wonder why. We were so perfect. Look at us in a mirror you will see a cute couple. I know he loves me. I know I love him. We are trying to be that cute couple, but we are both falling. I honestly still want to marry the man because when he is my lover, I could never want anyone else. I can’t, I won’t give up on him. Yet I am giving up on me. Is there a difference?
If I really look at it there is no difference. Hence I am now pointing the finger to me. I constantly wonder if this was my fault. I tried everything to get out of this, everything I could think of. I still wonder if my frantic attempts could have been stronger. I resorted to some of the worst possible things. I harmed myself! I watched the blood drip down my wrist! I felt the relief! I wasn’t like I didn’t try reaching out. I just couldn’t. I rehearsed the words in my head. I knew what to say to those who could help. Help me, I want to die. I could never say it though. Every time I tried I couldn’t force myself to say those words. I was afraid to. I didn’t want to be judged. That was my flaw. I didn’t want to be called pathetic or a loser. All I did was hide behind my mask. Now it is too late.
It is odd knowing you are going to die. It is peaceful. The world doesn’t matter as much. The trick is how to die. Knife, no I tried that one. Hanging, where do I hang myself? Pills, to unreliable, they may not kill you. Jumping, I am afraid of heights. So I have made up my mind. I will shoot myself. I have a plan that I have been obsessed with. It started out as a game. Just thinking about it was kind of fun, in a sick way. Sometimes I will admit to clinging to myself. Yet I am going to let it go. There is no hope for me left. It is too late.

I hope you the reader of this letter are better off than me. Maybe this whole living is for you, but not me. Thanks for listening, even though you have never seen me or heard my voice. You didn’t have too. You could have thrown me away. Do me a favor. Keep this, so something of the girl who couldn’t live anymore still is here.












Sincerely,
The girl with many reasons

To the girl with many reasons:

When I first picked up your letter I almost tossed it aside, but then I read it. My heart goes out to you and I have been praying. I don’t know who you are or what you look like, but I feel grateful you shared your life with me. Your many reasons are horrific. No one should ever have to live with that. Yet you must be a trooper. You wrote that letter as a cry for help. I am not going to use that stupid I know how you feel cliché because we have our different struggles. I won’t insult you by trying to understand. What I will do is tell my story and give you many reasons to live.

My story is as tragic is yours. I won’t sugar coat it. I am dying. Your life wasn’t what you wanted it to be nor was mine. It used to be though. I graduated collage with a business degree. I went straight out to the work field and got a job at a minor corporation. I had it all. I had the money and a job I loved. I woke up looking forward to go to work. I did love my work, but there was an underlined reason. I meant my husband there. He took my breathe away and I gave him my heart. We were married that year. We had a daughter named Katie. I was so happy, but then circumstances happened. I lost my job when the company went down, but worst of all I found out I had cancer. The look on my husband’s face was of sheer horror. I just couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They didn’t know how long I had left. They said it could be a few months to a few years. We tried treatment and it took so much out of me. I lost my hair and my little girl, bless her heart, shaved her head too. She said, “I don’t need hair either. I want to be like mommy.” I kept trying to hold on, but the news kept getting bleaker. The doctor’s broke the news, I am going to die. My goal has been to live life while I still can. I have seen miracles that I want to share with you.

This first one will sound corny, but just look how beautiful the word is around you. Admire the nature and appreciate the beauty. I will confess I love taking walks in the forests. You see so many beautiful things, like those daises bringing a pop of sunshine into my life. Maybe you should try a walk or just doing something you love. See the blessings the world has and it makes you feel grateful that you are here. Also think of your future, right now you might be going through a rough time, but if this beautiful world exists, why can’t you be a part of it.

Also think of your family, they can be a big blessing. Yes in every family there are awful people, but what of the people who care. Don’t break their hearts or your friends. Keep fighting. You might not think of it, but many people will go to your funeral. Maybe that boy who you say you won’t give up on might just care, could you imagine hurting him?

There is a lot to live for like those hugs you get from those who care or the beautiful sunset. There are all those things you enjoy doing. There is your future to live for. Can you throw it away? You’ll go to college soon and be free. You have many choices. Make your own fate. Don’t let these past things make it for you.
I wish I had a chance to avoid my fate, wish I had a few more years with my wonderful husband and precious daughter. I wish I could stop my husband’s tears, but I am powerless. I will die, no matter how I look on it. I won’t see the sunset fall or get those hugs. I will miss out on so much, regardless of your religion. You however can stop it; I know you might feel like the worlds against you. Yet I am here writing you this letter. I just hope we don’t both end up in coffins. Please fight, just give it a chance and when you look at the sunset think of the woman who cared enough to write back, to what some would throw away.
Sincerely,
The women who cares

==========6 months later==========
The room was full of those in mourning. A husband weep and the little girl beside him dressed in a little black dress with her hair cut short had a daisy in her hand. She walked up and put it in the women’s grave. She whispered, “Mommy, I still want to be like you. You were strong mommy.” The others walked up to the coffin too. One by one they said their goodbyes to a woman who fought her hardest. Hours past and the line dwindled. The sunset could be seeing through the window. One young girl who never meant the women in person smiled a sad smile. She went up to the coffin and looked at the women.
“Well I guess I should start with a thank you. You saved my life. I almost gave up, but then I saw the sunset you talked about. It gave me hope. I am sorry I never called or wrote back, but I didn’t know what to say. Now I do though. I think of you every time I see the sunset and you were right about those walks they help.”
The girl walked away. No one noticed her, but she didn’t mind. She did what she wanted to do, she said thank you.