Note to Reader:
This is a prose piece that does not express the views of the author. This character is completely fictional, made up by the author, when she thinks of the people in situation such as the Holocaust.----Kristen Green (Senior)Dear Mother,
I know we've never been on the best of terms, and please know that this had nothing to do with our relationship. I know you love ma and as I write this I can only think of how selfish I am being by not doing as you would wish. But even still I believe that I must proceed for the good of my world, and likewise my family. Oh mother how I love you so. That is one thing I always had problems saying to you aloud. I admire your strength and intelligence. When I look at you it makes me happy to know that I might, perchance be as smart as you. But even more than that I am happy I have your tender heart. Sometimes I think I need to toughen myself up and not be such a big baby. But if it weren't for the crybabies the world would crust up like forgotten clay. I like having a soft clay heart, even if it does mean things hurt more when bruised. I hope you understand this is the source of my actions. By no means am I unhappy, I rejoice at the thought of my soft, achy heart. But I do not rejoice a the hurt of other; the pain that causes our hearts to bleed so. People suffer and martyr every day. These are the ones who feel true pain. They deserve to be allowed to hurt and be wounded. Spoiled people like you and I should not have the luxury of such emotions. Pain should not be a factor in our plush lives. Pain is for those that hurt, not for those weak beyond the conception of the universe outside their master planned community. So with these words I break out of my lifestyle, I determine to change my middle class destiny and become a martyr as seldom, but miraculously does happen to people of our station in life.
I have left this note outside my door for a reason. I do not want you to come in and see me. I couldn't bear to have you come in and see me how I will soon be. Just please call for help and dispose of the details. They, as my body, are not important. What is important is the letter that I have written to you. If it makes you sad, never read it again, I could not rest knowing I had made you unduly suffer. But please, not matter how painful this letter is you must share these things that I have written with others. Everyone must know hurt like is in this letter. Make them strong with my words mother. Let them know that I have not killed myself in vain. I love you.