Dear my father and my mother,

I'm sure you were happy when I was born, and dreamed of me growing up and making you proud. You tried your best to raise me. You made everything materialistic available to me. You thought this would make life look beautiful to me and easy. For more than a dozen years you only have talked to me through the phone for minutes each time during which I've pretended everything was fine. Probably you have assumed I'm happy and feel successful. I need to tell you this: I'm not happy, and I've never felt happy. You thought your physical and emotional punishment would make me a better and a happier person, but it didn't. It has destroyed the life and joy inside me.

Truth be told, you brought me to this life for you only not for me (I don't think people think how happy the child would be in life, but rather how happy the parents would be of the child). You wanted to feel a purpose in life by having children, a reason to live for, just like everyone else does. I'm sure you hoped for a social support circle, and hoped for some help when you get old. I guess I gave you the purpose you wanted. I will try to give you the social support and help you are hoping for, but life will have to stop at me. I'm sure you are waiting to see your grandsons and granddaughters from me, but I'm not going to have any children, because in my view it's a selfish act to have children in this miserable world, which makes me think also if I'd ever get married and settle down, because I don't want to drag anyone into my "dark" world. This will make you sad, and I'm sorry for that, but you wanted me for you, and I'm going to do just that without repeating the endless cycle of misery, not through me. I got used to be alone, and it's become part of my character to be alone. This is my density. I truly believe this is my destiny in this life. Everything happened in my life has led me here.

Yours sincerely,
Mr. Stranger

(This is the letter that I will never write to you, because you will think I'm crazy as everyone else thinks of me when I speak of these things, and that I failed you.)