Dear …

To a tree I confess myself, to this nook I proclaim my life. Yet this tree will not hear me, will not feel me. Maybe that's why I like it so. I can do anything I want around it, and it will not realise. A beauty to have. Soon people will not have to suffer with my existence. I will not have to suffer with my existence. People will never have to know the pain I've been hiding inside. The fear. It's all the fear. They'll think I could have fought harder, but I fought all I could. The war between my fear and my life will soon be over. So it is this nook that will hold my secret, until dirt comes and washes it away. Rain is due for Tuesday. I've never believed in pathetic fallacy, I may have to wait till Wednesday. Three more days I can bear, only with the hope of what is to come. No one will find this, my final note. No one will look in this little nook and care. Soon I'll just be known as the girl who could've fought harder. But this tree will know different, though it will not know a thing at all. Shall I end with a sincere word, to show my elegance in the matter. There is only one word that will fit.

Adieu fair tree, adieu