February 4, 2007
the hinges on your door squeak whenever you come home. we always had our doubts about you. you should have stopped running long enough to see the signs, but instead you fell right over the cliffs into the sea. we still don't know if you suffered, or if the current was quick and merciless. depending on my mood, sometimes i wish both. maybe you deserved a quick exit. or maybe all along, you deserved the pain of a slow death. maybe i knew too much to have helped you. maybe i never knew enough. you slipped right through the cracks.