DEAR,
RYUNOSUKE TANAKA
one day, my mother had told me a story. a story of how she loved my father so deeply but he only used her for a quick fuck to please him for a night.
she loved him so, so so much much, she was willing to keep me as a reminder she was once with him and a symbol of him was with me as his daughter, and of course he didn't care he had a child, he probably had millions of them, but he did not care, no.
everyday i would see the black petals with the gory extension of a deep red blood being coughed out of my mother's throat and her distasteful condition worsen every single moment of the day.
oh how i prayed to the gods they would show mercy on her poor withering away body, on my mother, the woman who had raised me with all that pain.
the way she would look at the one framed photo of them on our small apartment walls just for bloody flowers to fall out of her throat seconds later.
she couldn't even enjoy looking at something without the next second being her coughing up her miserable life away.
she was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do but watch her slowly wither away, but she deserves to rest, don't be selfish.
at first, large stems grew out of her lungs making it uneasy for her to even breath.
eventually, those thick stems blossomed into beautiful but tragically bloody white flowers.
the petals would soon fall off the flower leaving only the small stem and the bud left of her coughing up on the sink, truly a saddening sight.
and of course, I would just watch it happen like the stupid naive little girl i was, what was i supposed to do?
everyday she would wake up, and it becoming harder for her to breath and her condition worsening even more.
there were dark bags circling under her eyes, her cheekbones going thinner from lack of eating. you could not really eat with stems blocking your throat, after all she could barely breath.
she was getting thinner and thinner everyday, and the one she loved was probably sleeping with another one of his mistresses, peacefully.
alas, she told me this story on her death bed.
mother like daughter
yours truly,
y/n
