When grief is ironic.
Angela was only nine. SHe sees things others don’t.
People that are there.Inside of people.
And they talk to her.
At the supermarket.At the laundry mat.
In fact The one she remembers the most is on her tenth birthday.
Right before her grandmother died.
Everyone went to the hospital. They were all very sad. Talking about how she wasnt there.
Angela knew different.
Sure Grandma was dead. But they didn’t see her sitting in that chair.
She looked so sad.
I guess she thought she would see this white light and be whisked off.
Something kept her here though.Maybe it is something as silly as a bill she forgot to pay or the fact that uncle billy didn’t have the key to her storage shed.
But something kept her here alright.
And they were talking about how grandma was in heaven and that was just her shell.
And she felt like standing up in that chair she was sitting in and scream:SHE IS RIGHT THERE! SHE HASN"T GONE ANYWHERE.
But they would just laugh at her.
Or think she was crazy,and needed to go to the funny farm.
Then she remembered when her step father. The drunk awful man got super mad at her when his keys came up missing.
IT wasn’t her that did that.
No. But could she really tell him that it was his dead father,and he thought he was pathetic excuse of a human and wished that Angela would tell every one what he did to her two nights ago…
Of course if she did tell him.He would just hit her and pass out.
Is it really any suprise that Angela grew up to be a 29 year old runaway with no future?
She is in an asylum now.SHe watches these ghosts follow around the other patients.
It eats her up.
She only told one person.Once.
Andrew said he loved her. They were married. NOt now. He got a divorce from her.
Because she is crazy.
She wishes.
But today.
He had heart failure.Out playing golf with his friends.
He came to her. He cried.
He apoligized. He looked so sad.
He looked so very sad.
I used to read you a while back and located you in my notes and readded you. By the way you front page says you need one moe mister I will take that place just call mister Ed (hahaha) or mister E.T.
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Too much blah blah, get to the fvcking point. Too damn soft and luvvy wuvvvy. At least after tonight’s activities, I’m drunk and under the influence of punk music n stuff. Text me n I’ll make it up to you 😉
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