Romance is poems on paper napkins and cheap cigarettes. Eventually, I will find it for myself.
The stars must have stumbled out of alignment.
My sister, Maggie is schizophrenic. The wind whispers in her ear and convinces her that the 60s didn't exist. Each voice, with their own personality and appearance, must come from somewhere. They are always changing, fading away and intruding in. It must be terribly confusing for a young lady like herself. I love her so much.
A few days ago, she said, "Maureen, I didn't want to tell you this because it might upset you, but Joey (my baby kangaroo and sunshine that committed suicide the fall before last) came to me. He said to tell you not to worry, and that he is ok." She frightened me. Why would she be thinking of Joey?! Does her mind really file memories away with such efficiency? Joey, you must know how much I love and miss you, perhaps I will have the pleasure of seeing you again. Next lifetime, perhaps? You can't be stolen from me twice.
When we lived in Vail, I had a friend named Rolina. Her mother was the quintessential earth-child tangled with a devout saintly christianity. Strange, but regardless, she was the complete hippie. When Maggie was about 4 she told my mother "that child is a vessel. I can feel it, I can sense it; it is strong in her. She has the potential to be a prophet."
Margarita Rosae began hearing voices a few days after Joey's death. Coincidence? I hadn't know until just this morning, but the first person she talked to was Joey. He was the beginning of this psychological maelstrom of schitophenia. I am scared. I don't believe in much, but I want to believe in her so badly. This is hurting me. Why didn't Julie ever talk to her? Julie was happy, I am positive she went straight to the heaven she imagined. Joey, my sunshine, couldn't possibly be at peace, and according to some he would be barred from heaven... My sister has always believed in Purgatory, and very strongly. Curious because we left Catholicism before she could possibly remember. I am distraught and lacking understanding.
Sir Joseph Leonart joined Maggie and I at the movies last night. I am getting tired of Ben Stiller. Nonetheless, in regards to Joe...Yay. He is awesome. I'm not sure if I want to pursue anything-- I am tired of boys. I would consider a convent if I believed in God. Sometimes I do, but not often enough. My faith must be non-existent, because shouldn't faith be unfaltering
My darling, your cluttered plot is difficult to follow and too predictably dynamic. I think of you often, picking you apart in my calculated dissection. You poison my thoughts.
I will never understand how can be so arrogant and so loathing of himself at the same time.
My sister, Maggie is schizophrenic. The wind whispers in her ear and convinces her that the 60s didn't exist. Each voice, with their own personality and appearance, must come from somewhere. They are always changing, fading away and intruding in. It must be terribly confusing for a young lady like herself. I love her so much.
A few days ago, she said, "Maureen, I didn't want to tell you this because it might upset you, but Joey (my baby kangaroo and sunshine that committed suicide the fall before last) came to me. He said to tell you not to worry, and that he is ok." She frightened me. Why would she be thinking of Joey?! Does her mind really file memories away with such efficiency? Joey, you must know how much I love and miss you, perhaps I will have the pleasure of seeing you again. Next lifetime, perhaps? You can't be stolen from me twice.
When we lived in Vail, I had a friend named Rolina. Her mother was the quintessential earth-child tangled with a devout saintly christianity. Strange, but regardless, she was the complete hippie. When Maggie was about 4 she told my mother "that child is a vessel. I can feel it, I can sense it; it is strong in her. She has the potential to be a prophet."
Margarita Rosae began hearing voices a few days after Joey's death. Coincidence? I hadn't know until just this morning, but the first person she talked to was Joey. He was the beginning of this psychological maelstrom of schitophenia. I am scared. I don't believe in much, but I want to believe in her so badly. This is hurting me. Why didn't Julie ever talk to her? Julie was happy, I am positive she went straight to the heaven she imagined. Joey, my sunshine, couldn't possibly be at peace, and according to some he would be barred from heaven... My sister has always believed in Purgatory, and very strongly. Curious because we left Catholicism before she could possibly remember. I am distraught and lacking understanding.
Sir Joseph Leonart joined Maggie and I at the movies last night. I am getting tired of Ben Stiller. Nonetheless, in regards to Joe...Yay. He is awesome. I'm not sure if I want to pursue anything-- I am tired of boys. I would consider a convent if I believed in God. Sometimes I do, but not often enough. My faith must be non-existent, because shouldn't faith be unfaltering
My darling, your cluttered plot is difficult to follow and too predictably dynamic. I think of you often, picking you apart in my calculated dissection. You poison my thoughts.
I will never understand how can be so arrogant and so loathing of himself at the same time.