Eiluj

Dear Whoever
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Ezoic
2010-07-11 18:01:59 (UTC)

Where is home? July 11, 2010, Sunday

Dear Whoever,

I thought I would be crying at this point. The point where
my broken soul finally cracked totally in half. I feel
like such a different person. I'm alone, and the only
condolinse I have is this diary, a "sorry I don't love you
and am giving you up" gift.

Things would be so different if mom was alive. I always
knew that she had to go for a reason, but it breaks my
heart to think that I'll never feel her arms around me,
and that my whole life is changed forever. Worstly, my dad
can't even look at me without being in pain.

I don't really know how I'll go on. I became so attached
to dad ever since mom left us, and now he tore himself
away, and I'm alone. Not totally alone in the world, but
my soul is alone inside me.

Today was eventful. I clung to my father like a baby
before the train left, willing it to break down, or
something. It didn't, of course. I rode this plain old
train to where I would be living, whether it be permenatly
or just for a little while.

My great aunt Susan lives in a giant white house, it looks
like a mansion. She was my mom's aunt, and I've realized
she hates me. How was I greeted upon entering? "Oh great,
the left over filth is here."

I don't care if she wants to play it that way. I can play
right back. I will do anything to survive here. As for
Uncle Charlie, he just grunted a hello and went back to
working in his office. Perhaps we'll get along well.

Aunt Susan was mad when she found out I wasn't baptized. I
really have no idea what she wants me to do about it. It's
not like God and I are on good terms anyway. He ruined my
life, and I hate him. I don't care how cliche it sounds,
it's true.

So here I am, in this unfamiliary place, without a friend
in the world. I might as well be an orphan, all though
I'll always love my father, no matter what.

Where is my home now? That is what I'm pondering on this
cloudless night. I know someone will read this letter
eventually. I know they'll have their own story, whether
it be better or worse than this one, than mine.

I wish that whoever reads this letter was here with me
tonigtht. Nobody knows how alone my soul is.

Sincerely,
Nobody


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