A Letter To My World And Purpose 

My Dear Irene,

I am writing this as a redemption for my sins, as I am ready to be killed for others' selfish desires. I know I won't be there to watch your hair grow just like you, so forgive me for my future absence.

Controlled by the other's hunger I constantly think about how I'm ordered to eliminate another child's father who probably writes letters just like mine, I wonder if sometimes our words collide at the same time. Same words, on the same paper, at the same time.

As I'm currently being used like a marionette, you must have reached your mother's height! It's weird how I left you as short as a snowman we used to built. Oh, remember to use ladder for safety when putting star on Christmas tree, since I won't be there to lift you up in my arms anymore.

It's funny how people in our village are celebrating the almost end of this bloody dance. They cheer, eat, drink. The owners of us will probably hold each other's hands and smile as a symbol of peace, yet your mother will still pick flowers for my grave, just like the mother living next to you, who planned to make his son's favorite pastry in the hope of him returning.

How beautiful yet tragic is a mother's hope?

I stand here today so you won't have such kind of fate. But I'm afraid I know the nature of a man. No matter how hard we fight, how many of us fight, how much we sacrifice, the cycle of desire never stops running.

This useless faith will probably die with me on a dance floor today, or tomorrow, maybe the day after. I hope the day after so this letter can reach you.

As I mentioned, this message is a redemption of my sins, so I confess that when I was your age, I stole two pieces of apple dusted with sugar. The sins haunt me to this day. Don't steal apples dusted with sugar. The baker will beat you up.

Tell your mother that I'm fighting off the ugliness of this dance with her presence in my memories. Whenever I think about her suddenly the blood purifies in water, clouds wash away, and the sun peaks.

I should have held her tightly before I left. It was not enough. I let her go too fast and forgot to put my head on her shoulder.

She was making biscuits that day, she smelled like burnt sugar and chocolate. Tell her to make it again, maybe the scent of those will bring me back to life haha...

No matter how flawless and perfect the promise of heaven may be, without your mother, those pies won't taste the same. I'm very upset. Unless your mother comes I won't be able to enjoy them. But it's too early for her to follow me. Make sure of that.

I would tell you to listen to the others, but that same advice got me here today. So I'm telling you to be safe, be cautious, love your mother, love yourself enough to not be like your father.

I would tell you how much I love you but the weight of it will rip this paper apart.

I don't know what else to say, the only thing I want now is to never put the last comma on one of these words, since those same words are what keeps you two living in my imagination.

You might miss me but- I hav. Yet.

I heard an explosion, take care Irene. Love your mother for both of us.

Sincerely Your Father.

Museum Of Military Correspondence.

From Collection: ''Letters That Never Got Delivered''