No this, no that. Why did you limit me so? Why you'd flee the scene of the crime when you knew you were the felon. You left, and every single moment of my life I questioned why. I questioned how. It didn't add up.
You were my Ant, my dominant, my little spoon. For god sakes you loved vanilla candles. But jesus christ, something changed. You are not the man I fell in love with. And I wish I could live to see his return. But alas, the Anthony I fell in love with was shipped off, never to be seen again. And if he were to be shipped back, well I'd already be dead.
All you wanted was control, and you got it. And you used it. I don't understand how a man could say things to his spouse that were so unbelievably agonizing. You destroyed me. You insulted me. You beat me. You used me.
"No you can't leave, the house isn't spotless."
"No don't look in the mirror! You'll break it."
I asked for a savior, and he did save me. However, he grew weary. He ran away because of the absolute fear of you. He left me, the only other guy who loved me like you used to. Ran away because of your jealousy. Everyone feared you. You were hated, every single party we went to we weren't invited again. At these events and parties, the signs of abuse were and are still evident. The bruises and contusions remind me and others of what you did.
And on this very night, every thing has changed. Because I took matters into my own hands. Everything I did tonight was my choice. I took the pills on purpose. I overdosed as my intention.
And as I look up to see the doctors and nurses scrambling to keep me alive I internally smile the biggest smile because I know I won't make it. The commotion on the gurney is too much for them, and they will make a fatal mistake.
You wished for my death, so I can't see how you would be upset about this. Crying day and night for some strange reason, I thought you wanted me gone. But when you came home drunk that night my answer was proven correct.
I wake up in pain, but as always the emotional toll is worse. And a month later in December I try again. You tried to change, you tried to keep me. But I didn't want you to have me.
So when I downed two more extra pills than my attempted amount, I knew. My liver couldn't work that fast within a months time. I heard the doctors scream and nurses yell. Most of them already starting to cry because they were working on the twenty fifth, that this would be the only patient that died, and because they were probably just plain ol' exhausted.
I felt bad for the doctors though, I let them down. My body eventually gave out. And I remember you sobbing by my side telling me your regrets, your sorrows, your apology. Those three things I've been waiting my entire life to hear. But I think you were just a bit too late Anthony.
And in conclusion I died on the 25th of December, and my present to you is my death.
Merry Christmas
Anthony Daniel Padilla
