How Not To Pray

There are certain times in a persons life, and I happen to know this for a fact; that every person in the Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindi, Taoist, Shinto or even the “believers”, “followers”….

There are times when we all feel a need to pray…to somebody or something.

The overwhelming, not quite cognizant drive to fall to your knees and do…something, ANYTHING!

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Despite what we have all been led to believe by other “learned” men/women on our blue marble, there are no rules stating that said prayers have to be about thanks, grief, vanity, money or whatever….suggestions, but as far as I know, the Lord’s Prayer in the Christian Bible, is the only one with rules on how a prayer must be done.

You know… Official like….

But, the rule that is non-negotiable or maybe just expected, is that you DO have to report in every now and again; rip your insecurities out, spill your heart on the floor, yell, scream, whisper, cry, laugh, beg for a horrific end to your mother in law……while on your knees; penitent.

Broken heart, contrite spirit.

Oh, the other rule….

Don’t be lazy if you can help it.

Knees are preferred…

This happened to me a few minutes ago.

I’m in a shower at the a truck stop; dripping wet, shaving cream on my face and Heavenly Father wants to talk.

So….we talked.

No choice, really.

Let me step back…and PONTIFICATE.

We follow the Bible and its teachings for a while, right?

Then we started to really get into worshipping it and wanted everyone else on the planet to feel our joy and love; so we went on crusades and missions and wars; righteously killing millions of heretics, pagans, witches, infidels, musselmen and assorted other Moors, Catholics, Protestants, Mormons and about 82 Branch Davidians….that the government, which was based constitutionally on these same biblical Christian values, didn’t like very much.

I wonder if the kids screamed while they burned….

And the list goes on; even today.

I don’t believe we’re as civilized as we profess to be, really….

But, I digress and I apologize.

I’m having my usual pessimistic outlook on life during this joyous season and I guess the Lord noticed, because I’ve been behaving badly and been kind of an a-hole, lately.

So, like I stated earlier in this post, God drove me to my knees in this truck stop shower; somewhere in Oklahoma. Dripping wet, shaving cream on my face, naked as a Buddha and Heavenly Father decides he wants to talk to me.

Well, I suspect now, in hindsight and reflection; that’s what we’re supposed to do after we pray…reflect; so, I’m freaking reflecting!

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So, in this reflection, I think he was tired of seeing me mope around, thinking crummy thoughts, not seeing good in anything; basically being a pill and an a-hole, as stated before and possibly witnessed by many, including my very own self.

Isn’t it terrible when you realize you’re being an a-hole and don’t care?

You just want to hurt and be rude and judge and hypocrite…..more stuff; until everyone else gets butthurt and turns into an a-hole too, and joins my little pity party!?

Anywhos…

As I stared into the fogged up mirror; shaving cream on my face, razor held up by my right cheek, barely able to see my big, fat pink body in the mirror, except for the little spot I had cleared with the razor free hand and was presently fixated on.

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I heard a still small voice and I recognized it for who it was.

I made the “What was that face?” for effect.

Thats when an urge fell over me, I can’t explain it.

I put down the razor, spread a towel on the floor; because its still a truck stop shower, I’m not crazy…and I knelt.

And I bowed my head before I spoke to the God of us all.

I bent my head in reverance to the celestial being that allows us to exist despite being a horrendous horde of ungrateful, destructive pieces of crap that occassionally celebrate a good deed WHEN IT SHOULD BE A NORMAL UNCELEBRATED THING TO DO A GOOD DEED AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER, LIKE WE WERE SUPPOSED TO FROM THE FREAKING BEGINNING!!!!!

“Dear Heavenly Father’ I said

“I thank you for everything that you have given, have taken away and for prayers that have been and have not been answered, thy will be done.

(OK, I got the initial disclaimer stuff out of the way.

I picture God sitting on a cloud somewhere looking at his fingernails making the “Come on, come on, I don’t have all day” hand motion.

Even though I know he has forever but, hey….

I am only a man.

One of billions…..but there you go.

Well, this man (meaning me) talks to God as if though God were a man.

“I am sorry I say the same thing over and over but, I don’t mean to but, you already know this”

‘I just find it hard to get into myself and tell you things I know you already know, seems redundant and unecessary”

*sigh*

“Is it a confession you want or am I’m doing this wrong? Why am I telling you things you already know? Why am I confessing things to you when you already know them? Does it make a difference on judgement day?”

Is it for forms sake?

*smh*

[*Heres where I slip back into repetetive dribble, which the bible expressly frowns upon]

“I thank you for my wife and kids, please protect them and help them to make good decisions and be good people and do nice things”

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“I thank you for my job and I thank you for being reasonably healthy”

[Hesitation here because I realize that God has heard this all before, again.]

Blah blah blah…

It just became personal.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lord”

[Here I look up at the ceiling, clasping my fingers tighter; I’m getting frustrated]

“What am I supposed to say, that I’m sorry, over and over?!”

How long do I have to apologize for being human!?

That I’m a piece of crap and I can’t do anything right and I’m sick and tired of everything?!

What am I supposed to say to you, when you know everything I’m saying or thinking and I still don’t hear poop from you, or at least I don’t think you’re saying anything back !?

[I stand up, turn my back to the steamy mirror, looking at another part of the ceiling; I throw my hands up but don’t say anything, I’m too old for this mess!!!]

[Moments reflection]

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[I turn back to the towel on the floor, kneel back down, slowly shaking my head]

This is stupid….

“Thank you, Lord, for everything.

I’m doing a lot better than most and everythings not too bad.”

“I’m still a little nervous about thy will be done because I hate surprises but, I know, well, I HOPE that you have plans for me, regardless of what they are.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been an a-hole lately and been kind of a pill to the Honey Biscuit and messing up her month with my OCD crap but, I try not to let my moods show too much.”

*sigh*

“The cool part about you is that you are the only one that truly knows me.

AND despite what others have witnessed and drawn their conclusions from, some well founded I must admit; you know that I am a good man, with a good heart that only wants super powers so I can save the world.”

“I know I’ve screwed up sometimes. Thank God for repentance; oh, I meant thank you”

*ironic chuckle* He knows what I meant.

Silly rabbit.

“I’m sorry, you know how I get.

” Thanks again for letting me live this long even though I’ve almost killed myself several times and oh, btw, I have no idea why you let me live this long.

To see what I’ll do next probably….

That’s just, mean.

“Thanks for letting me see the things I’ve seen, meeting the people I’ve met and letting me believe that I ain’t as bad as I tell myself that I am”

“Dear Father”

“Help make me a better man. Help me do something to make a difference. Help me to be more patient and a loving Husband and Father. Help me to be a gooder man.”

“Dear Heavenly Father”

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“Help me to be more humble and long suffering.”

[This is when I realize I’m being all biblical sounding, again]

repetition….breeds scripture abuse.

[I lower my now dry forehead to my clasp hands and squeeze my fingers harder, really serious part coming up]

“Father”

“Help me be the man we know I can be, thy will be done. I trust you”

“In the name of your son, Jesus Christ…….Amen”

[I stand and turn back to the mirror which is steamy again because the shower is still going and the faucet is running full blast….]

[I wipe a clear spot on the mirror and look at myself]

I hear the still small voice again…..

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“Peace, Trey.”

I talked To God today, in a truck stop shower and he answered me….

Oh, From me and God…

Be real.

The Dying Rain

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The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my best friend’s small garden.

I was holding her frail hand, the one with her “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

She always giggled when she told me that she could kill a plastic plant…

I’ve seen it happen.

But now her eyes were closed, her breath labored.

….. today was a good day for her, considering everything….

She may have been asleep but, her fingers gripped mine as hard as she could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding her hand at all, as weak as she was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from the strongest person you have ever known.

….like sand in an hourglass.

I laced my fingers thru hers, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of her hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing her….

My bestest friend in the whole world is dying………Dying!

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She did it to herself…. 

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together.

I have done this more than usual lately….

Six months…..seems like yesterday. 

Too fast…

…..Way too damn fast.

Doesn’t it seem weird that when you are about to lose someone close to your heart, a piece of your very soul, that we start to reflect on our memories of them more, as if though trying to burn them deeper into our hearts and minds….

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I remember when she was sober. 

I look at her face as she sleeps….

She’s so beautiful……..even now.

My flower is fading….

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The sun is leaving her eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament her window…..

I won’t weep…..she did it to herself; selfish bitch. 

I’m not going to cry…not now at least. 

She gets upset when I cry.

I sit there, holding my friends tiny hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees.

I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There is only laughter, joy and our high school prom.

There is only skinned knees, gum in our hair and boyfriends we shared

.rain4

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel her stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves her.

Her eyes are open and I follow my dying friends hooded gaze.

She’s looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across her face…..

She is quiet….

Dying sober, thank God…. 

Oh so still…..

God? Where is God now? 

I notice a small tear is running down her pale cheek and across her dry lips…

She did it all to herself. 

I hate her. 

I reach up and wipe the tear away with my finger.

All of a sudden, I feel guilty that I’m alive.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her lips and then drops my hand with a tired sigh.

She turns her face toward me….dream9

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of her tear….

She gives me that shy grin of hers and turns back to the storm.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asks in her beautiful, weak voice; the stormy sky reflecting in her dimming, pretty eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.

 (I hate you for dying) 

She squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, her gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” She says.

My face softens, I will not cry….

(You did this to yourself) 

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing hers to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze her hand too hard…..

She lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.

This could have been avoided.

So easy… 

She turns her face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

She says “Think of me when it rains….”rain6

I cannot cry in front of her….

I will not….I won’t! 

My best friend in life is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….

“I hope it rains forever” I say….

Her eyes are closed now…

Her fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” she whispers.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like an asshole for being alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing she would hear from my lips.

No God….not her….

Not my friend…..

(I HATE YOU!) 

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

She…..

She dropped my hand.

Her heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God! Oh my God!!!

She has gone from me into the storm….

She lives where lightning is born….rain8

Our joined lives continue as memory….

I guess I can cry now….

But, I think it still upsets her…no matter.

 I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, she will be there with me.

SOBER

She will watch our children grow.

SOBER

She will watch our children become best friends.

SOBER

It is time for me to weep for my lovely…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of her?

I can already hear her voice in my head…

“Cry baby”

I smile….

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It’s true….

She’s here…..right now.

SOBER

She is alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of her….

(Why….?) 

The Dying Rain: 2016

To  busymindthinking: Memorial Day 2016 is coming…

You told me a story once….

And, it touched me….

I have to pay tribute to this much, too shortened friendship.

It’s amazing how things can move you….isn’t it?

What’s the point of life if we can’t be moved by others experiences.

Without movement, we go stale.

Because I think of her now, when it rains.
The Dying Rain
rain5

The rain began to patter on the window that looked out over my best friend’s small garden.

I was holding her frail hand, the one with her “green thumb”.

I smile at this…

She always giggled when she told me that she could kill a plastic plant…

I’ve seen it happen.

But now her eyes were closed, her breath labored.

….. today was a good day for her, considering everything….

She may have been asleep but, her fingers gripped mine as hard as she could squeeze.

I could barely tell I was holding her hand at all, as weak as she was.

It’s so painful, beyond belief really, to try and imagine strength draining away from the strongest person you have ever known.
….like sand in an hourglass.

I laced my fingers thru hers, gripping them a little harder, tracing the veins on the back of her hand with my other fingers.

I can’t believe I’m losing her….

My bestest friend in the whole world is dying………Dying!rain3

[RUMBLE]

I can hear the thunder in the distance, the rain coming and going, the branches of the trees scraping lightly across the panes of glass

In the storm graying light of the small bedroom I turn back into time to think of our lives together.

I have done this more than usual lately….

Six months…..

Too fast…

…..Way too damn fast.

Doesn’t it seem weird that when you are about to lose someone close to your heart, a piece of your very soul, that we start to reflect on our memories of them more, as if though trying to burn them deeper into our hearts and minds….

It’s as if though we are afraid that we might forget something important….forget them?

I look at her face as she sleeps….

She’s so beautiful……..even now.

My flower is fading….rain7

The sun is leaving her eyes.

The rain reminds me that I must not cry……

Cloud tears trickle down, the beads of sky diamonds ornament her window…..

 

I won’t weep…..

Not now at least, she gets upset when I cry.

I sit there, holding my friends tiny hand, staring out the jeweled window as the storm drums the shutters.

The lightning is bright, the thunder is closer….the rain, more insistent…..

I can smell the trees.

I begin the stroll down our memory lane; it isn’t raining here.

There is only laughter, joy and our high school prom.

There is only skinned knees, gum in our hair and boyfriends we shared.rain4

[RUMBLE]

I am brought back from my breaking heart to the bedside when I feel her stir under the blankets….

The thunder moves her.

Her eyes are open and i follow her hooded gaze.

She is looking out the window, watching the storm.

Shadows of the window panes, rain drops and lightning dance across her face…..

She is quiet….Still.

Oh so still…..

I notice a small tear is running down her pale cheek and across her dry lips…

I reach up and wipe the tear away with my finger.

I feel guilty that I am alive.

She grabs my hand and presses it to her lips and then….she drops my hand with a tired sigh.

She turns her face toward me….dream9

I raise my finger to my lips and kiss what’s left of her tear….

She gives me that shy grin of hers and turns back to the storm.

“Will you do me a favor?” she asks in her beautiful, weak voice; the stormy sky reflecting in her dimming, pretty eyes.

“I don’t know” I say “I’m kinda busy” I grin.

She squeezes my hand again before turning to look at me, her gaze imploring.

“I’m serious” She says.

My face softens, I will not cry….

“You bet” I whisper, both my hands pressing hers to show my promise.

I can’t squeeze hard. She lives very close to pain that I can’t imagine.

She turns her face back toward the window as the rain dances across the roof, the thunder making the panes tremble….

She says “Think of me when it rains….”rain6

I cannot cry in front of her….

I will not….

My best friend in life is slipping away like a dream, like water thru my fingers….

“I hope it rains forever” I say….

Her eyes are closed now…

Her fingers relax in mine….

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” she whispers.

I thank God for this small answer to my anguished prayers….and I curse him.

“No…don’t go…” I say

I feel like an asshole for being alive.

I never thought that would be the last thing she would hear from my lips.

No God….not her….

Not my friend…..

Take me instead, I’ll go. I’ll go right now!

She…..

She dropped my hand.

Her heart has finished its toil.

I can’t breathe….I gotta get out of here….I…….can’t…..breathe….Oh my God! Oh my God!!!

She has gone from me into the storm….

She lives where lightning is born….rain8

Our joined lives continue as memory….

I guess I can cry now….

But, I think it still upsets her…no matter.

 

I will dance in the rain with the memory of my friend, and we will laugh…

I rejoice in the fact that as long as I live, she will be there with me.

She will watch our children grow.

She will watch our children become best friends.

It is time for me to weep for my lovely…

I thank God for Heaven and eternal life….

Oh my God, why is it so hard to breathe when I think of her?

I can already hear her voice in my head…

“Cry baby”

I smile….

rain1It’s true….

She’s here…..right now.

She is alive in the thunder and rain.

I will think of her….

Don’t Let The Bed Bug Bite…

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take

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….Don‘t let the monster man take it.

Amen.

What woke me up was not being able to catch my breath.

I tried to turn over and get into a different position….

I couldn’t move.

I was groggy of course, but I had enough experience with years of sleeping and middle-age that I either had to pee; I was sucking acid reflux or experiencing another episode of sleep paralysis.

Waking without waking…..

Now that I think about it, it’s happened to me a lot since I got into my 40’s….the sleep zombie thingee I mean.

If any of you have ever experienced it, it is a frightening thing. I don’t care how many times it occurs….it’s terrifying.

You know it’s happening again without knowing what’s happening…..

Follow me…?

The only difference this time from my earlier episodes was that I could open my eyes.

I’d never been able to do that before.

If you remember from times it’s happened to you….You can’t open your eyes or wake up.

You think you’re awake…..You know you can’t move……But, you are asleep….and start to panic.

Something is holding you down.

Knowing without waking….

I stared into the darkness of my room.

The kind of dark that you can feel.

Thick and warm…..heavy….suffocating…….Needing.

I could hear my breathing….

It wasn’t matching the beat of my heart.

The eyes that appeared in the closeness of the dark were dim….Inches from my face.

Were my eyes open?

How terrifying is it when you can’t shut your eyes from a terrible dream because they’re already closed?

The little monster man was on my chest.

I had seen him before when I was a child.

He had lived under my bed, my closet…..my skindownloadbb2

I thought he was gone…

“There’s no such thing” my mom had said after changing my wet sheets, her eyes dull from the pills and betrayals.

“Quit acting like a baby” my dad said after slapping me against the head.

I could smell the cigarettes and liquor on his fingers…..

They lied……

They lied about a lot of things.

The little monster man’s breath was on my face.

I could smell whiskey and….lust.

Or….hunger?

“Now I lay me down to sleep…” the monster man whispered in my ear, his breath was hot and fetid as it dripped down my neck like candle wax.

His lips brushed across the hollow of my throat…..His tongue tracing lines of hot ice that made my skin pimple.

His hands were pressed down on my shoulders, kneading my skin as if he were a lover….the nails digging into my terrified flesh.

Did you know that flesh is easier to rip and tear when you are about to die?

I know now….

I tried to fight……I tried to scream!

Knowing……and not waking.

The little monster man had come back.

He had come back for me…..

My screams were muffled when the little monster man pressed his bile reeking caked lips to mine, his teeth nipping at my lips….his tongue searching…..longing…….knowing.

I felt his hands slide down to my chest slowly, dragging his nails across my nipples and coming to rest over my thrumming heart.

His lips pressed harder into mine, pushing the words into my throat “If I die before I wake….”

He shoved his fingers into the skin of my chest and began to tear.

I screamed into his mouth, my eyes wide with horror and pain.

The monster man has needs…..

The little monster man sighed and thrust his loins against my stomach as he tore and cracked my chest opened.

I couldn’t scream.images (69)

I tried to…..Oh my God how I tried.

It was like trying to draw water from a black empty well that has no echo.

I could feel everything his hands were doing.

Tearing…..digging……..searching.

His passionate kiss stopped….the ripping stopped.

He gave a deep throaty groan when he found my soul tucked behind my heart.

The little monster mans fingers tugged at my soul and began to pull.

His lips left mine….and I was sad for some reason.

He looked into my eyes again.

The lids of his eyes were heavy now and his eyes were brighter.

I could scream now….And I did.

Nothing….

Only the screaming in my mind made any noise.

“If I should die before I wake….!” His mocking laughter drowning out my tormented shrieking that had no sound.

My soul was being torn from me, wrapped through his fingers as he pulled….

The bright pulsing spider web of my life….was dying.

I was dying…..without a soul.

He wrapped my soul around his little body and began to dance as if though he were in a seductive trance, his hands above his head, threading my soul through his fingers, across his face….across his lips, his tongue caressing the tiny tendrils of my soul.

It was vulgarity….it was evil…..profane.

I screamed and screamed…..imagesbb3

The little monster man stopped his dance and looked at me, spittle hanging from his thin cracked lips….

I could see pieces of my soul caught in his teeth.

“I pray the Lord my soul to take” he whispered.

The dark of the room was closing in again as the little monster man knelt back down and lowered his face close to mine, my soul draped over his shoulders….

A dead cloak of life.

“Mine” he said.

This time my screams woke me up.

The early morning light was just starting to come through the windows when I, a man of 49 years old, looked under my bed….rummaged in the closet….walked into my bathroom and studied myself in the mirror.

I pulled my shirt up, looking for blood or fingernail marks.

None….

”Thank God” I thought to myself.

Just a nightmare….

I felt my soul relax.

I turned back into my bedroom and saw the little monster man standing in the middle of my bed.

“Amen” he said.

I screamed and screamed until the dark came back…..

The flames of hell give off no light….

Don’t Take the Girl

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My niece Wendy Sue just told me that she has cervical cancer.

I don’t know what to say or think.

I burped her when she was a baby.

I changed her stinky butt.Image

Years later, I have done the same with her kids.

I think I’m in shock….

ImageI told her I didn’t want to know about it, I don’t want it to be real……

Is it wrong for me to hate God now…?

Or trust in his “plan”….?

I’m really angry with him now.

She says that she is having a biopsy done the day after Christmas.

They will tell her what stage her cancer is in….

My Wendy Sue has 4 kids.

She is the most sensitive and tender girl/woman I have ever known.

She is beautiful…….and she loves her Uncle Trey.

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I’m gonna kill him….

She has been there for me thru all of my drunken phone calls, my rehabs, my active alcoholism and more things I can think of.

She laughs when she tells me about those drunken calls I used to make to her in the middle of the night, half a world away, and sing to her……

And now…..God is trying to take her from me.

I know that the abnormal cells may be nothing at all, and that the biopsy will reveal more information.

But I don’t care about that.

I’ve lost enough in this life Lord….

Don’t take the girl….

Leave her here with me Lord, and I promise I will devote the remainder of my life to the service of others.

Damn the pay, Damn the insurance, Damn the retirement….Damn it all….

Just leave her be….

Leave her alone! I beg you to call it off….Image

I will fight you for her……

Better yet….take me in trade.

Even Steven….

Is it out of your hands?   Do you have nothing to do with this, or am I just praying to messy blankets and a pillow?

Sometimes I get so mad when I hear “Thy will be done”.

I’m sorry I’m so upset and angry and that I’m taking it out on you Lord….

But you know how I am and you know what’s in my heart…..

She’s a part of my heart Lord.

If you take that part from me, then just take it all because I will have no need for it anymore other than to live….Image

And miss my Wendy Sue….

I’m going to pray to my pillow some more, and maybe cry a little.

Just…leave her here with me….Image

Or tell me she’ll be okay.

Don’t take my Wendy Sue….

Please….?

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