I regret to inform you that you have lost the privileges to my innermost thoughts. As you are still a major, and much wanted, figure in my life, you are privy to my knowledge and any opinions that i would not mind sharing to a stranger, but again, I can no longer express to you my most honest opinions or hurts. I want to hurt you. But I love you too much to do that. So this is the only way I can express it. Maybe you’ll notice it, maybe you won’t. Hurting me is better than hurting you. How sad is it that I am convinced that you will love me to the end of your life but I am quite sure that you will never quite like me as I am. (I don’t know if I can love myself knowing that you cannot accept me) Calling it killing parts of myself is a tad dramatic, I think, but thats what it feels like, ma. Maybe I’ll regret it come morning. I dont think the memory of our laughter is enough this time. I’m sorry.