It has been a while since I last wrote you. I feel as though these last few months have disabled my persona. There is a wild spirit within my psychological confines who cries out to be set free. During the day, I am restless and hyper. At night, visions of pain and torment haunt my dreams. A never-ending reminder that you cannot heal through concealment. Notwithstanding, I am satisfied within my current confines. My mask may conceal my opinion, but my eyes always give me away.
My only consolation is that my children feel secure. They have stability and an unshaken foundation that defines a real mother who protects her own without condition and without regret. They are content.
