Be My Soldier Forever

Ep. 91

From: Evan Adrian

For : Uncle Jericho

Uncle, I'm 18 years old.

Mom and I were slowly able to forget about Dad and Anita, even though it was very difficult for us.

But it's even harder to let go of Anita, and I wondered if it was because he died before he forgave me or if I was just big enough to understand what death was or if it was because I found him hanging.

However, mother is not only upset or sad about Anita, but she is angry and very angry at her. Maybe he's harder to get away from me, 'cause I'm not so mad at Anita.

Mom's health started getting worse and the chances that I would lose her, scared me to no end.

I lost my father, I lost Anita and I'm not ready to lose my mother either. Although I still have an uncle and aunt, I don't know when he'll be back. I wish it would never happen.

That's the thing about death, you can never control it, and you shouldn't control it. You don't know why, how or when you or anyone else is going to die. And you can't recognize him for himself who can't die later, but you can't die sooner than you should either.

That's what Anita does, she challenges her destiny and ends her life sooner than she should.

She did not find anything interesting in her life so she put her life away. He touched what should not be touched, he took something that did not belong to him from the beginning.

As much as we believe that we have ourselves and we can do whatever we want with our bodies. It's not ours.

Our lives are not ours, much to the chagrin of everyone.

You can't just cut yourself by saying that to your body, you can't damage your lungs by smoking and saying that the lungs are yours, by the same concept, he said, you can't take your life assuming you don't have a place in the world anymore.

Mom started talking to herself, to the wall, having imaginary friends like I used to do when I was five.

This is called Fluffy Boo or Schizophrenia.

He started hearing voices, and slowly he started listening to them, and then he started doing what they wanted.

I asked her who she was talking to, sometimes Anita, sometimes some other friend of her that I didn't like.

Sometimes when I stay up on my desk, I hear the pots crackling in the kitchen, moments like this make me wish we had a cat, so I can blame it, not the mom talking to herself.

One time, I woke up and found her bedsheets covered in blood, I asked her why it could happen, she told me it was menstrual blood, but menstruation is not accompanied by a corpse in the closet and cupboards and shovels in the backyard, or Is it?

I don't know what else to think.

I was confused, scared, scared, and I wanted to pee in my pants and sheets.

I was cold, hungry, unable to sleep and anxious.

But she's my mother, how could I be so afraid of her?

Greetings, greetings,

Father's Little Fear Warrior.