Again, I love constructive criticism. Please note that this is in no way related to my other story Lasciatemi Morire. It was simply inspired by the same canto, therefore it is titled similiarly. I don't put much thought into my titles. Can you tell?
Death. It is such a sweet, blessed relief! I have waited for this day longer than you can possibly imagine. Life, I am afraid, has always been cruel. Now it has become nothing more than a tiresome chore. Over these last years, I have lost almost everything that I ever cared for. Countless days of bitter tears. That is almost the entirety of my memory. Days spent grieving silently, waiting for it all to end. That is what my tedious, insignificant life has been thus far.
And yet, you have consistently tried to comfort me. Even now, as I write to you this letter, I question why. Even when Fate, the wretched goddess, had seemed determined to make me as miserable as she possible could, you were there. There were, I admit, times that I had hated you for it. There were those days upon which I simply wished to be alone in my miseries, without someone consistently trying to make light of things. I wanted to be left alone to die. But now I will finally admit that, perhaps, I was just the slightest but grateful for it. Perhaps…
But now, I will also say that I have had enough of this wretched curse! If Heaven refuses to claim my soul, I shall hand it to Satan through taking my life myself! Lasciatemi Morire—Let me die!
For the last time,