2930 or so, who gives a rat's ass.

Sam,
Do you know how hard it is to fill a blank page when you're blank yourself? You can't be mad that I don't write because there's gonna be less and less for me to say. How do you talk about yourself when you're something that's slowly unhappening?

It's brittle and full of light and not exactly what I expected at ( Read more... )

Please don't be mad. I moved your body. I hope that doesn't make it harder for you, but I had to. I didn't want anybody but me knowing where it is. It's been a few weeks since you left it. We've been through worse, right, I mean, I know what kind of state a body should be in by then and I figured it would be hard. But, Dean. Something was really ( Read more... )

3,886 ( Read more... )

Dean, I should probably tell you. I left, a little over a week ago. This thing with Bobby, it's more than I can deal with. It's for good. I didn't have anything I could say to him anymore ( Read more... )

Day 4,578 ( Read more... )

Dean ( Read more... )

Dean ( Read more... )

Day 4,920 ( Read more... )

Dean ( Read more... )

Day 9906. Festering blood and mock contagion are clawing at your ribs, Sam. That stuff rots. It's better to get rid of it. I can make it better. This ain't our Jerry Falwell's evangelical Hell. There's no table magician, no smoke and mirrors. Your bootstraps are held up with stale human sinew. Your clogged guts are on my table over there and I've ( Read more... )