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4:10 p.m. - 11/20/01
"they think i'm crazy...they don't know that I like it here"
Dear Red,

I find myself with my thumb in my mouth a lot these days. I take it out for a moment so that the feelings aren't stuffed so far down, and I can get to the core of what I'm suffocating. It seems I'm still ready to cry over you without too much prompting, though I did get through my first day-treatment yesterday without a tear. Mostly, I just talk about you constantly, to anyone who will listen, regardless of whether they want to hear...but the most heartfelt stories never get told.

I can't tell my mom how Brea said she would never leave me no matter what I said, did, or felt. I can't explain the look in her eyes when I looked up, shocked, and whispered that no one had ever told me that before. I can't explain the way she set her expression, strong but believing, strong - how she replied that it made her sad.

I can't tell about the shock in Lisa's eyes when I mentioned that no one had agreed to adopt me. I can't say the way she got up to hug me when I went into the office to tell her goodbye, the way she laughed at my random comedy, or how when I suggested her husband might not be thrilled about taking in a stray psych patient she shrugged it off as an "occupational hazard."

I can't tell how Stephanie said that of all the residents she worked with, she saw the most change in me or how she suggested that I balance my early maturity with a willingness to dive in should youth ever look entertaining. I can't tell how we'd take long walks and she'd tell random stories in between complaining about the cold or how she knew that volleyball was more fun when your team could barely win a forfeited match.

I can't explain how Karen was the only one who ever touched me, how she would put her hand on my knee or my shoulder when I was crying, how she would invite me into the office, enjoy my presence there, instead of kicking me out. I can't explain how much it meant that she was in my goodbye group, that she came full circle after admitting me the first day, how much it meant that she was there.

I can't explain Stacy or Silje or Beth. I can't explain what all of this means, and it makes me sad because even though I write about it, no one can say "Yes, they really are wonderful" because no one else has ever heard the exact timbre of these voices that keep bouncing off the boundaries of my head. These voices that make my shoulders ache from sighing and my throat clench against swallowed sobs. I'm not bawling anymore; I'm just tired and sad.

It's a week and three days after the wake and all anyone will say is "Yes, yes, he's dead- I can see how that is hard."

Tammy's being helpful...but I feel so lonely just the same.

lovelost
chord

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