N. says it would be ok if we write to you. We're having a hard time cuz we started crying again. Sometimes we think that you don't like us so much anymore and then we get sad. We don't got anything to write to write to you so good. Our friend came over last night and he said it was ok cuz we never make Thursday love and that turned out to be pretty good. But, it isn't the same. It doesn't feel as good the next morning, cuz it doesn't make up cuz your still not here. I don't know where you are. Everything just makes me cry. I hurt. I feel like I'm going to break up into little pieces. Everything hurts. I can't make my mind see clearly. Everything gets rained on with the tears. We do more rocking now. But, we can't make the bad feelings go away. It feels like we are in the middle of a desert and we can't go forward and we can't go back. I don't understand stuff so good. When I hold my head it just keeps crying. I don't know how to think so good anymore. I don't know how to make my brain stop hurting me. I can't breathe no more. Feel quick gasps for breath. Its not ever going to be better again is it? It's always going to be like this? Maybe it doesn't matter so much no more. I think maybe that I'm dying and maybe I'm just scared a little bit. Sometimes I wonder about stuff ... now it seems like we're just wondering how it would be. Maybe we're just looking for a quiet place like where billy goats eat on the other side of the mountain. I would go there all by myself. Nobody could come with me. I wouldn't be able to come back. I wouldn't want anybody to talk to me. Maybe I wouldn't remember how to talk so good anymore. I wouldn't want to use this language. It's a very bad language. I think my new job would be to sit on a rock. But, not too pointy. It would be my rock to sit on though and I'd have to sit on it if it were rainy or shiny. And, when it got dark then I wouldn't sit on the rock any more. I'd go to bed in a cave. But, it wouldn't have bears in it. Or, snakes and spiders. It be a cave just for me and it would be my home. And, nobody could come and visit. And, I would just sit by the fire and rock and rock. That's all.
Posted by Ann Marie