My Best Friend Told Me Not To Write This

The Introduction to this Madness

The ending of Thanksgiving hit me on the back of the head with a baseball bat. I am preparing to return to my last semester of my senior year after Christmas break. I feel beaten, some bruises now live as cuts in my head and I'm taking a little time before I let go. As I sit here drinking tea, resisting the urge to pull out my hair and rather let it step aside gradually, I ponder what I want to say. So much. I want to say much. I just want to say so much...

I want to walk on. Mentally move away. Leave, somehow I don't know... I'm trying to help myself. I don't belong in my last semester of life anymore. I have a few things that life deserves an answer too. I don't want to give it. I don't want to ponder about the last 364 days. In fact I wrote it down. Actually spent time answering for choices I had felt like I had a responsibility to make. But walking down the strait path I was led to burn it. Please, if you need closer, I beg you to find a smolder of pieces, fragments of soot, read them, and send me your response. I'll take a swig of whatever is near me and hold my breath. Until the time I decide that I'll breathe for you, I'm. Going to write for me. This is dedicated to my best friend. You told me not to write this. In fact you told me not to ever let myself have a reason to write this. That was a nice thought. I was naive to agree that I wouldn't. I guess I'm not perfect. Who knew? Hahahaha, I guess this isn't a good time to write to you and say I love you.