Dear Mom,

It's been10 weary years of missing you. You might know that I am not who I was when you were last there. Though, I felt your presence many times, wishes can also fool us. Speaking from that weak part which believes you are still here somewhere, I guess you have been with a lot of "me"s : The shy me, the one who gave herself away to silence, for her words were unheard; the one who rendered to despair; the one who sought sympathy for life at times, the faithful and the unfaithful one, and finally, the hollow grown up me.

There is not much to tell you Mother. All think I am like you, yet, I seem to be the only one to know you and I are nothing alike. I no longer believe in earthly or divine tranquilities. I am often mistaken about this world; the kindness I see in most people betrays me , every single time. I cry. I often cry, for strength forsook with you. The futility of life grabbed away all hope and placed despair in every corner; I misjudge people, situations and I misjudge myself. What is even worse, I no longer believe I shall ever see you again, and this, I pray to be the wrongest of all my wrongs.

I love you,