To mother,
Mother. I couldn't help but feel out of place, in this place you sent me. The other children speak bluntly, they do not understand my words. The teacher herself stares at me from time to time, seemingly distracted by the words that spout from my mouth. They speak of warm memories and bedtime stories. The teacher told me to tell everyone about the events that transpired in my home, I told them everything. They were shocked. I don't understand how something so simple could shock them. I was pulled aside and reprimanded for doing something I was asked to do, a bittersweet taste of hypocrisy. Hypocrisy. The teacher said that word today, and I learned it. Hypocrisy, it seems this word seems to have root in a lot of people. She scolded me, and told me that our household was broken, that it needed to be mended. I told her that I was satisfied with your absence, and father's sins. I'll be coming home shortly, if you decide to come home.
- Your child, Micheal
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To father,
Father. How are things in prison? Mother dislikes my predilection to speak of you, and so I must supress my thoughts daily. It pains me. Though it saddens me to be so unable to speak with you face to face, I cherish these brief exchanges of conversation. I had an epiphany at school today. I'm very different from the other students. I've delved so deep into developing my lexicon and my intellect, due to the love I developed for words, that they can't seem to understand me at all. It has been evident that they would much rather prefer to speak in their own, incompetent ways. Come home soon.
-Your son, Micheal
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To Martha,
Hello Martha. I've been noticing your glances since the beginning of the semester. Why do you glance at me like that? Is there a certain objective that you wish to fulfill? However pointless it may seem, I'm guilty of involuntarily doing the same. It's strange, this feeling. When you glance at me from the side, or approach me to ask for help, I feel a certain pain in my chest, and I cannot decide if it is an act of irritation or admiration with you. That reminds me. High school is almost over. Don't let your grades fall.
-Your classmate, Micheal
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To mother,
It saddens me to hear of the news of what has become of father's dead body. This world seems to harbor the cruelest of reprecussions for the simplest of faults. I've developed a love for the dark, and for the silence. It brings to me a certain level of peace that no one else could, or ever has. College is arduous, and somehow pointless. I've seen for a long time, that only those who desire to stay shackled to this system, would follow its paradigm. But I must follow it, for your sake. Until next time, mother.
-Your lost son, Micheal
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To Doctor Garbourne,
I trust all is well with you, doctor. I write these words with a gaping chasm in my heart, but I must ask a favor of you. That cementary, a few miles from the hospital... That is where I would like you to bury my mother. I have placed enough money in the envelope to dress her lavishly and place her in a comfortable white coffin. I ask that you bury her with caution, you hold my lifeblood in your hands. I will do my best to pay the medical bills. Thank you.
-Micheal.
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To Police Chief Gregory,
You coward. You would slander such a story to the media, even after you witnessed the act firsthand. You saw that man shoot the woman behind me, and threaten me at gunpoint, only to have me kneel, and to drop the gun where I kneeled. You reassured me and told me that no harm would befall me, and that you had seen all of it. Though I am quite amused. The holding cell you locked me in unjustly was far too easy to escape. I cannot reveal my name, but you know exactly who this is.
-Your victim
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To Helen Tarrick,
I send my deepest condolences for your son. I understand that he lost his way some time ago, and that he was a good man, despite the fact that he chose to dabble so deeply with crime. I've learned now that this world's view of justice is twisted, and ironically unjust. Your son pulled me into an alleyway and held a knife to my neck. It quivered in his desperation as he stuttered and begged for money, clearly under withdrawl to some sort of substance. A waste, truly, that such a good man could become consumed by such strange drugs. I did not have any money to spare. You see, I've been branded a violater of the law as well. He let me go and lunged towards me, and as I shielded my body from his knife, he tripped over me and the knife slid cleanly into his throat. The police were not too far behind, and I ran. I cannot reveal my name, but I pay my respects, please forgive me.
-Anonymous
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To Mother,
Mother. I couldn't help but feel out of place, in this world you brought me into. The others think bluntly, they do not understand my thoughts. Justice itself stares into my soul from time to time, seemingly disturbed from the thoughts that have invaded my mind. I hear of warm beds and food to eat in these cold streets, both of which I am lacking greatly. My guilt asked me to recall the events that had transpired since our time together. I thought of everything. And even I was shocked. How could I be so shocked, by something so simple? I was caught. I couldn't run any longer. They pulled me aside and shackled me. My execution is tomorrow, I sit bound in this freezing metal chair. The syringe lays cruelly still upon the silver platter in front of me, and I await my eventual death. A bittersweet taste of hypocrisy. Hypocrisy, they spoke of it, I heard it in the faint conversations through the walls. And I understood. They were hypocrites. I know you cannot read these words, for you are gone. But I see now that this world never had a home for me, and that leaving this world, would be the only way to come home. So... I'll be coming home shortly, goodbye mother.
-Just another criminal
