Personal Narrative: A Mother's Death Of A Woman

“It has been about four years or so since we last talked. Funny how times goes by, isn’t it; not that you would notice I’m gone since you found her. Now look at us, you’re engaged to a woman only because she has your child after a year or so of you complaining how horrible she is, and how you can’t wait for her to be out of your life. Was it all just some game to see if I would come back to you, and your sadistic ways? It’s odd now that I think of you, of what you ever said, of us. I suppose it is for the best, considering you would abuse my mind, soul, and on some awful occasions, my body in ways you would recoil at after it was done. You always blamed my actions for what happened to us, that I moved away and ruined it all. If I would have stayed, little do you know if I would have stayed my world would have become nothing but a faint memory of whomever my soul found next. Though not that you cared, as much as you said you did. I was dying in a home that no one knew of, and I am trapped in a body
With a single swipe of her index finger, the entire screen turned a vibrant blue, and it is deleted. Every word she had worked so hard on finding, is gone with a single movement and a push of a nearly microscopic button that has no more meaning that to let something disappear. Hours of thinking of the right words, thinking how to explain bottled feelings over the course of most her life was so easily destroyed. Another message for him was destroyed in a fit of depression and madness towards him for showing off his joyous life. How could he be so over what the two had together for so many years, though, it feels like their love vanished only the night before. She couldn’t go a day without thinking of him, or how he would make her heart skip a beat or so at the thought of his