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Please. torture me. Drop me from any height, drown me even. I would welcome the edge of your sharpest blade. Take my limbs, one at a time. Please, smile all the while. But don't tell me Truth exists. Do not compel me with the transcendence of Truth that the source of all goodness and power is torturing my mother. Do not force me to believe that. Do not touch and manipulate my mind with mental massages telling me of God's love: that God is love, when I must look at her face of agony. Do not console me with the reinforcement that god is a healer when there is no evidence. For 'Truth' will surely manhandle me far more than any torturer could.