The Millionth Tear was Happy

It is difficult to believe I am here. Looking back I have come so far. In this moment I want nothing, I take in breath and realize the world turns, the heart beats, breath is taken and the hand from around my chest is loosened. I am freer in this moment than I could have ever imagined. The land around me replenishes and alone I am safe. In my short life I have felt more hurt, more anguish and more humiliation than is cared to mention, my own life is a reflection of the disorder and ciaos created in it from birth. Tears are a commodity in my family. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, we are all taught to hide our emotions, its only natural, healthy, but who is there to teach if we are all alone. 

 

I would never have expected many people to want to know about my life. My life may not shock you and indeed it is far from entertaining, but my life is more like your own than you may wish to agree. My name is Sister Mary Woodrow, if I ever meet you I would agree you may call me Sylvia. I aught not to be writing to you with out ever knowing your name, you may wish to write me back, please address my dear friend here whom I know will agree to pass your letters on, I hope you are polite and respectful. My story is one of a very real person and a very real life, one that I am more than very proud of in moments and ashamed just like the worlds we live in I am not perfect. You may think you know my ending as I sit in front a typed document rereading, noting my existence, however as in all adventures it is not in knowing how it ends but discovering along the way the true story which brings you there.

I look onto this world and see so much beauty. I look out into a room of beautiful people and I cry, I cry for you, I cry for the lives of your children, and most of all I cry for my own life. I am a nun, you look at me and you feel sympathy, sorry for a woman so old to never have felt a man to feel his touch or care for her desires. I am a virgin by practice of sexual intercourse. You feel badly but don’t, we have yet to begin my last verse. It is true yet I have felt love.

The End

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