I am learning to trust you and walk with you. I am learning to put faith in those things that you say even when I cant see them. I struggle. I really do. Somewhere along the way I taught myself to be independent to the point of disability. I am now unable to lean on you, though I know that I should. Help me.

I dream of love and all the things that have been spoken of, and that seem to be promised in your letters. I dream of Love, a gentle faithful love and yet still I doubt whether it could truly exist, for me. I dream of love, and when I dream I can't see my face so I cannot necessarily convince myself that I am meant to be a part of it. I struggle to breathe in this climate so suffocating so void of any of the things that I dream of. I dream of love and escape and hope and all the while when I dream I dont really belive it, because love is a foreign entity like ET, and I am not sure that I am a believer.


I hurt and when I hurt I dream, for escape, and I fail, always being drawn back to reality by alarm bells. The alarm bells in my head that tell me that its all a dream, wake up and that I must be outta my mind to believe that any of it could happen.

I dream of love and when I dream, I dream of you. Holding me up, when I fall, which is a frequent occurence. You talk to me when I am alone, and yet sometimes, you hide away, your reticent self, returning behind the veil, away from me. I dont understand this, so I lie down again to dream, because this world is too much for me. I dream and when I dream, when I dream I am happy.

Make my dreams come true.

One must travail to make a mark in this world and refuse to be a product, but a producer. Yet we still ahve to ask, of out young people, who is producing you? To whom do our people look up? Why choose this particular person? What is wrong with the people that we want them to look up to that they merely open their mouths and yawn?

The mechanics of communication. She

At times it hurts, and I begin to question my sanity. I begin to wonder if perhaps I was a little too harsh, or if perhaps I blanked out during parts of my life, that I cannot now remember what is being presented to me as evidence. Evidence of my failings and the ways in which I once again fell short of the glory I never sought. I tremble, well my lip trembles. I bite it, hard. This is simply not the time to fall apart. I wonder when it will be time for me to fall apart, coz I feel a volcanic pressure behind my eyes, threatening to manifest itself in the form of a waterfall, a hot burning waterfall, but a waterfall none the less. I sigh, expelling breath, because someone once said that this is a good way to keep the tears away. It doesn’t way, and all of a sudden it explodes. I shut my mouth tight so as to keep the sound from escaping. At this I succeed.