September 7. Can’t deal. Every day I’m all alone. I dream of friends, but there’s no one to hang with.
September 7. Can’t deal. Every day I’m all alone. I dream of friends, but there’s no one to hang with.In the darkness of the pre-dawn
In the darkness of the pre-dawnA reflecting pool waits
A reflecting pool waitsFor dual images to lap at its liquid
For dual images to lap at its liquidAnother summer gone by, BFD. Oh, I went to Grandma’s, saw the cousins and my sweet aunt who laughs all the time, returned to camp and almost ruled in the second-to-the-oldest cabin. Learned how to sail better, that was cool. Even mastered the double half-hitch. Ronny didn’t get mad all July, and only once in August.
But all summer there was this weight pressing on my chest. Like a vice or a Twilight Zone
