Forse non ho il diritto di scrivere queste parole, forse la vita non ti ha lasciato abbastanza forze per affrontare questa lotta. Ma queste sono le ultime parole che ho per te, oramai, e tutto ciò che devi fare è ignorarle ed andare avanti per il sentiero che conosci bene.
You've always read me without understanding me. Or maybe without wanting to. Like to keep a point of no contact. Even so, in the end, you almost failed, you almost was no capable to sever that bond. I don't know if you'll read me this time and I do not care, since these are my last words for you, and that I write them is more important that you read them. There's no anger towards you, it would be too easy, and I'm not made for easy things. Easy things are not for me, as you know, otherwise I wouldn't have chosen you. What I feel for you is, maybe, worse then anger, because what I feel, now I understand it, is delusion. Not to be a failed experiment: life itself is, in the end, just an experiment, like experiments are all things we do, and all of us are now the scientist and then the subject. The delusion is because I thought you someone able to fight, but you picked the easiest way. The delusion is because you didn't notice how much strength you drained from me, calling me to fight with and for you, just to quit and leave me to stand alone.
Maybe I have no right to write these words, maybe the life didn't leave you enough strength to stand for this struggle. But these are my last words for you, and everything you need to do is to ignore them and keep going along the path you know better.