May 15, 2008
Hey, Dean.
Sometimes it's too hard, having no one to talk to. I see people all day long. I'm guessing you don't. I'm telling myself that this is the same as keeping a diary, or whatever. There's just a hole here. I know you understand. I didn't realize how much air you used to take up. I can still hear you making jabs at me and before I know it, I've answered them sometimes.
I was expecting to feel watched or followed or haunted. I wanted to feel you around somehow. Everything I've done was hoping at least for that. But I don't. You're not here. I'm trying not to be mad about that. I couldn't bring myself to make the fire. I'm sorry. You got to be selfish, so, now it's my turn. You shouldn't care one way or another, and who else would you come back to? It pissed me off, Dean, and I know it shouldn't but it does. Bobby helped after I asked him to and I thought that he got it, that he understood, but then he kept calling me boy and stood over you and said all this crap about ashes to ashes and I couldn't stand there and listen to it. I know you would be here if you could.
This woman named Debra Rice today had billy goats in her yard. I'm not kidding. Four of 'em. It was a nice neighborhood, and so it wasn't like I expected to see laundry drying in the yard or anything. Things just seemed out of place, in general. Turned out, she had some things I needed, but some of Bobby's friends are just too exotic for me. Not sure how he does it. Not sure how you did, either. The longer I stay here, the more hollow I get.
Sam
P.S. When you get back, this is gonna seem really stupid. I mean, writing like this. Debra seemed sure that I'm not evil. I've got something in me that scared her, but my intent is good. I'm not possessed or haunted. I don't know how I'm supposed to take her seriously, since I already know I am. I'm not going back. I just wanted you to know why.
Sometimes it's too hard, having no one to talk to. I see people all day long. I'm guessing you don't. I'm telling myself that this is the same as keeping a diary, or whatever. There's just a hole here. I know you understand. I didn't realize how much air you used to take up. I can still hear you making jabs at me and before I know it, I've answered them sometimes.
I was expecting to feel watched or followed or haunted. I wanted to feel you around somehow. Everything I've done was hoping at least for that. But I don't. You're not here. I'm trying not to be mad about that. I couldn't bring myself to make the fire. I'm sorry. You got to be selfish, so, now it's my turn. You shouldn't care one way or another, and who else would you come back to? It pissed me off, Dean, and I know it shouldn't but it does. Bobby helped after I asked him to and I thought that he got it, that he understood, but then he kept calling me boy and stood over you and said all this crap about ashes to ashes and I couldn't stand there and listen to it. I know you would be here if you could.
This woman named Debra Rice today had billy goats in her yard. I'm not kidding. Four of 'em. It was a nice neighborhood, and so it wasn't like I expected to see laundry drying in the yard or anything. Things just seemed out of place, in general. Turned out, she had some things I needed, but some of Bobby's friends are just too exotic for me. Not sure how he does it. Not sure how you did, either. The longer I stay here, the more hollow I get.
Sam
P.S. When you get back, this is gonna seem really stupid. I mean, writing like this. Debra seemed sure that I'm not evil. I've got something in me that scared her, but my intent is good. I'm not possessed or haunted. I don't know how I'm supposed to take her seriously, since I already know I am. I'm not going back. I just wanted you to know why.