
Dear Son,
I'm rotting here in this self made hell and dreaming how it would have been if I had played one more game of hide and seek, if I had stolen one cup of sugar and ran across the hall, who I would have been if I had really followed my passion, my dreams ignoring those all who thought I was unrealistic, what love would have been if I had dared to marry her by giving a damn to what society thinks.
With complete paralyzed body, hearing disability and poor vision, I still have that faint shadow of my dreams, I had once dreamt. Coughing with blood I am cursing myself here son, in this death bed. The bed has become wet of the tears I have...