(no subject)
Hey you,
How was Boston? I think I had another friend at the same event you went to. Something about wizards or Harry Potter? Anyway, I hope you had fun. The photos I saw suggest look like it was a pretty good time.
I remember being in Boston once. My grandparents took me and my brother to the science museum. I was really excited then because I thought I was going to grow up to be a scientist. There was this man who would stand in a metal cage in the middle of what I assume were two of Tesla's coils, reproductions of course. Lightning was shooting all around him. I was amazed. He lectured about electricity and lightning all the while. Then of course he did something to manipulate the electricity to strike the metal cage he was in, but of course he was unharmed. At 21 now, I've seen this a million times, but when I was a little boy it was quite the experience.
I think I've figured it out again. I know it seems I've found a new solution every week or every couple of days, and none of them are ever right or wrong. I'll never know the truth I suppose, or at least I'll never believe that you told me the truth. Anyway, here's what I think: I look too young. I've always been a bit baby-faced. The extra pounds don't help. But we don't look like we belong together. You always look mature and grown-up and gorgeous, and I'm always a little goofy looking. I mean, I don't mind looking goofy, but I can see where you would get the idea that we don't belong. And I'm still amazed by the man in Boston.
Did I tell you about Lucy? She died only a little over a month ago. I guess that's long enough to get over it, but I still expect to see her when I walk downstairs. I'm really lost without her, which would explain why I want you around so bad right now. Both of you gave me confidence. Is that weird that a dog would give me confidence? I mean, she was just a damn dog. At least that's the way Dad saw it. I was at school when she died. Mom didn't want to tell me because finals were coming up. I had to kind of push to the back of my mind. Now I'm back in my parent's house that I'm so familiar with, and everything is so quiet.
I used to cry a lot as a kid. I was a whiny little bastard.
Well, I probably shouldn't take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have things to get to.
Love,
Greg
How was Boston? I think I had another friend at the same event you went to. Something about wizards or Harry Potter? Anyway, I hope you had fun. The photos I saw suggest look like it was a pretty good time.
I remember being in Boston once. My grandparents took me and my brother to the science museum. I was really excited then because I thought I was going to grow up to be a scientist. There was this man who would stand in a metal cage in the middle of what I assume were two of Tesla's coils, reproductions of course. Lightning was shooting all around him. I was amazed. He lectured about electricity and lightning all the while. Then of course he did something to manipulate the electricity to strike the metal cage he was in, but of course he was unharmed. At 21 now, I've seen this a million times, but when I was a little boy it was quite the experience.
I think I've figured it out again. I know it seems I've found a new solution every week or every couple of days, and none of them are ever right or wrong. I'll never know the truth I suppose, or at least I'll never believe that you told me the truth. Anyway, here's what I think: I look too young. I've always been a bit baby-faced. The extra pounds don't help. But we don't look like we belong together. You always look mature and grown-up and gorgeous, and I'm always a little goofy looking. I mean, I don't mind looking goofy, but I can see where you would get the idea that we don't belong. And I'm still amazed by the man in Boston.
Did I tell you about Lucy? She died only a little over a month ago. I guess that's long enough to get over it, but I still expect to see her when I walk downstairs. I'm really lost without her, which would explain why I want you around so bad right now. Both of you gave me confidence. Is that weird that a dog would give me confidence? I mean, she was just a damn dog. At least that's the way Dad saw it. I was at school when she died. Mom didn't want to tell me because finals were coming up. I had to kind of push to the back of my mind. Now I'm back in my parent's house that I'm so familiar with, and everything is so quiet.
I used to cry a lot as a kid. I was a whiny little bastard.
Well, I probably shouldn't take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have things to get to.
Love,
Greg