about the nightmares. It seems like every other night I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands clutched to my belly where the knife grazed me. It wasn't deep, but it left a scar. Yeah, and not just on my skin. Right. I thought about talking to Bett, but Joan's the one who needs her help. What happened to Joan wasn't just a one-time thing. It makes me sick to think about it. What happened to me, well, they didn't actually do anything. I can handle it. It's no big deal. It's these stupid nightmares, that knife...
Look how the rays of the half moon fall across the paper. My words weave in and out of the dark, just like my thoughts...
It's so beautiful here. I didn't think I could ever love any place like I love Chicago, but I was wrong. I can't say I'm completely used to it, but I love being able to hear myself think. That's what Pops used to say when we'd find ourselves in a flurry of verts, "Can't hear myself think!" I don't miss the verts, that's for sure. But, damn, I miss Pops...
Look how the rays of the half moon fall across the paper. My words weave in and out of the dark, just like my thoughts...
It's so beautiful here. I didn't think I could ever love any place like I love Chicago, but I was wrong. I can't say I'm completely used to it, but I love being able to hear myself think. That's what Pops used to say when we'd find ourselves in a flurry of verts, "Can't hear myself think!" I don't miss the verts, that's for sure. But, damn, I miss Pops...
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