My grandmother died sometime shortly after that. I spent a long night in my room, drinking because that felt like a reason. Like the movies where people go haywire drunk, bottom bottling long nights. I didn’t even know my grandmother that well. But things just told me I should lament for a time on it. I wrote some songs or sketched
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Moments like this need to be capitalized upon. Frozen in amber. Those lump in the throat moments.
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And I hope your trip up north goes well - I know it will. I haven't called - and when I did, only briefly - because I know you're taking this time to revel in being on your own, removed from Xavier now. I feel like it's your time to get away - not to be tied down - like it's your time to break free. And I won't call for a brief while - I want to let you experience it fully.
But do me a favor - make sure and keep writing in your journal, and - at some point - we need to make arrangements to get together before summer's gone.
Keep at it, Matt - I'm glad the voices are screaming at you, and I just hope they don't ever stop.
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